My Boyfriend is a Demon
by Tweekslist
Summary: At the age of ten, Satan used Stan Marsh to defeat the Canadian devil. While victory ensued, some of Hell was left in Stan. Now, years later, Stan is learning how to cope with his powers and scary of all, being a teenager. Thankfully, with some help, he might learn how to get it all under control. Stan/Craig, Kyle/Bebe, Kenny/Damien.
1. Prolouge

**Prologue**

It certainly wasn't baffling for a mid-afternoon game of basketball to be suddenly interrupted by something out of the ordinary. Where most kids had to deal with worrisome mothers calling for their return home or playground bullies, the boys of South Park dealt with much more peculiar obstructions.

The ball had barely slipped past Cartman and into Kyle's hands before the deafening shriek of a thousand tortured souls pierced the cold air. The three boys looked over to see their dark haired friend spiraling up, scorching flames with arms from the spawns of Hell circling around before being cut off.

Normally, the sight of Stan coming from the depths of Hell should raise even the slightest alarm, but for the four boys, it was a mundane experience. Stan had been dealing with his own personal demons and the visual representation presenting itself along with the shit they'd already seen in their "quiet" mountain town, left little to be surprised by.

"Hey dude," Kyle cautiously greeted, unsure of his super best friend's state. For all he knew, Stan was consumed by some unearthly being, ready to tear his head off.

"Hey."

"Y-you alright?" the redhead asked.

"Yeah. Yeah, I think I'm gonna be okay," Stan answered calmly and with that acknowledgement, he departed the small court. The dribbling of the ball resumed and Stan sighed, ready to embrace the welcoming freedom Satan had given him.

Beneath Stan's retreating footsteps, Satan returned to his small, cramped office in Hell. Plopping down in the old chair and looking at the stacks of paper in front of him with a weary eye, a new set of exhaustion hit him. Dealing with the Canadian devil had backlogged the mortals that were due for torture and the several meetings with demons in section seven he had to attend to.

Sliding the papers towards him, he steadily began the grueling and boring task of catching up a day's worth of missed work. There were documents he needed to read regarding new torture methods and a few demon workers had been advocating to be moved to new sections of Hell.

After only a few minutes, he set his pen down and let out a long sigh. He couldn't focus on the words laid out in front of him. Something felt off. Despite what many above believed, possession wasn't a common occurrence for the underworld ruler. Humans had a knack for solving their own problems and much to his delight, it usually involved dramatic and violent methods.

However, using Stan Marsh to battle the Canadian devil, had left an unsettling feeling. It was as if he had forgotten something but it was something he couldn't explain. Satan bit his lip, trying to recall the last time he had taken over someone. It had been quite some time ago. The victim had been a 12 year old girl living in Georgetown. Her possession had merely been for his own pure enjoyment, back when he could afford to take pointless wonderings up on earth. He fondly remembered battling with her own soul and the priests before giving up and leaving. Tapping his claw on the desk, no recollection of a method for removal came to mind. He just remembered leaving as he did with Stan Marsh.

He shook his head, snatching the pen and returning back to work. Perhaps it wasn't the possession that was leaving him uneasy, but the very likely possibility he would be facing his son's wrath over not being selected to fight.

 _3 years later_

Work was slow as usual for Randy. It had been that way for quite some time. His boss had insisted on getting the younger interns out in the field and get hands-on experience with geology. This left nothing but answering pointless emails and plenty of time to browse their poorly connected wireless internet.

He glanced at the clock across from where he sat. Only twenty minutes left before he would make the short journey home. Time, today, had gone by a little faster. He had spent most of the day browsing cooking websites, pondering new song lyrics, and the last hour had been an exciting game of minesweeper.

The game wasn't particularly great at keeping his mind from wandering. He barely noticed when the screen flashed as he hit a hidden bomb. He barely gave it any thought as he started up another round.

Sitting alone in the office away from home left him alone with his thoughts for too long. He wasn't crazy or depressed by any means. For the most part, life was fine. However, while many come across an irking in their lives they can't figure out, Randy knew his. The problem was admitting it and if he ever did, solving it.

He dreaded admitting what he dreaded the most was being home. There was a tension in their home that continued to build and grow. It came because neither him nor Sharon wanted to expose it. They'd beat around the bush, avoid the subject and argue about trivial things, when they both knew what it was, but if they spoke out, they'd be awful human beings.

He got up from his desk and walked towards the window. The Colorado snow was falling slowly as people made their home. Nearby, he could see a group of kids sledding and he smiled sadly.

How can a parent openly say their own flesh and blood is weird as fuck? Even the thought sent a shiver down his spine. He was supposed to believe both his kids were perfect, wasn't he? Shelly had her temper and over the top dramatics, but he never left room for concern. Stan, though, it was the honest to god truth that something was off about their son.

He was a mild-mannered, kind, and smart kid. He cared a great deal for animals and the environment, and seemed to care a whole lot for Gerald and Sheila's kid. When Stan entered puberty, Randy quickly accepted the fact his son was likely not going to bring home girls. That never bothered him. Kyle appeared to be a nice kid and stuck with Stan even through his depression.

Randy looked back up at the clock and fought back the involuntary groan. Hitting the light to his office, he grabbed his coat and briefcase and made his way towards the snowy parking lot.

Tossing his case into the passenger seat, he hopped into the car. The ride home was less than ten minutes. It was only Tuesday, which meant no one had any after school activities going on. He wondered if he could arrive home and sneak upstairs to play Minecraft without being noticed. No, he would have to be a good father and spend time with Stan and Shelly.

Everything on paper about Stan was fine, a perfectly normal thirteen-year-old boy. It was the odd sensation the whole family felt around Stan. It was the way sudden and unexpected disasters came when he was near. It was the frigid Colorado air becoming warm when he walked past or the cold temperature he'd bring on the infrequent summer days.

He recalled one time when Stan was eleven and Shelly had been picking on him. He could hear the two of them going at it in Shelly's room from downstairs. He hadn't given it much thought. Siblings fight and bicker, it was common practice. However, he never felt his heart plummet and blood freeze faster than when a high pitched shriek followed soon. He had raced upstairs to see Shelly cowering in the corner as one of the hand-me-down white dressers was caught ablaze. As he frantically looked around for something to put the fire out, he noticed Stan standing in the corner, watching the scene with a vacant and removed stare.

He told Sharon of the events later that evening and they both decided the dresser was old and the heat from the vent must've caused the fire. It was an explained occurrence. Stan was merely in shock when it happened. That was all. That was it.

Arriving home and seeing the lights in the living room on, he wished he could still say that was how he felt. He took in a deep breath, hand on the brass knob, maybe tonight he'd finally face the issue. They could work on a resolution that would work best for their son. He let out a calming breath and pushed the door open.

"There he is," a booming voice rang and Randy felt his briefcase slip from his grasp. Seated on either ends of their couch, looking extremely fearful, was Sharon and Shelly. They barely looked over when Randy had entered. On the small chair, Stan sat. He didn't look frightened like his mother and sister, but more interested at the sight in front of him.

Randy was sure his face was that of someone in complete shock. Towering in front of their TV, smiling crookedly at him as he carefully made his way towards his wife, was Satan.

"Sorry to frighten you," Satan chuckled, sending a slight vibration through the room. Randy felt Sharon's fingers quickly tug at the fabric of his sleeve and he grabbed her hand.

Satan's red eyes surrounded by pools of piss yellow watched the family for a moment before clearing his throat. "I can tell my presences here is a bit unexpected," he began and the family kept silent. "I've come to hopefully offer some insight on a little problem you've been having."

He paused, waiting to see if this would make the family speak up. Surely they had to have seen it by now? However, their eyes remained wide and jaws slightly agape except for Stan, who merely quirked a brow.

"I'm not sure if you know this," he said looking at the three on the couch, and then turning to Stan, "or if you remember this, but a few years ago I used you in battle."

"Yeah, I remember," Stan muttered, nodding his head as the other three looked over at him in surprise.

"What-what are you talking about?" Sharon trembled, looking between the monster and her son. "What battle? What did you do to my baby?"

Stan rolled his eyes, waving a hand at his mother's worries. "It was something with the Canadian devil," he explained in a dull tone. "Satan needed a body to fight him and I let him use mine."

"YOU DID WHAT?!"

"Oh, you are such a turd," Shelly mumbled, shaking her head at the stupidity of her brother.

"It wasn't a big deal, mom," Stan promised. "I don't even remember the actual battle just that we-I mean he," he pointed to the large beast in front of them, "defeated the other devil and I got home safe. Honestly, it was fine."

"Stanley Marsh, I don't care if he asked you to deliver flowers for him. Never, ever allow anyone to—"

Satan cleared his throat and Sharon whipped her head back towards him. He recoiled back a bit at the glare and pure hatred radiating off her. It was true what they say, women can be terrifying.

"I don't know how else to say this, so I'll just come out and say it," Satan took a deep breath, sending the room temperature to plummet into coldness briefly. "I made a mistake when I possessed you. I didn't notice it at the time. I didn't go through the proper method when exorcising myself out and I left some….residue."

Satan stood there, digging his hoof further into the plush carpet as he waited for their reaction. Even Stan appeared to be taken back by the news, blue eyes widened at the new information.

"Is that why he's such a freak?" Randy asked abruptly, before slamming his hand over his mouth at what he had just said.

Stan's heart dropped. He couldn't say he was too surprised by the news or the fact his own father found him a freak. That didn't mean hearing it didn't hurt. He knew, watching his friends and just from something deep inside him, he wasn't a normal kid. The counselor told him he was just suffering through typical puberty awkwardness and his parents told him it was teenage angst. Now, he had the real answer.

"What does this mean?" he asked quietly. He began to wonder if he'd start to form horns or if his skin would turn red like the beast in front of him?

"You'll look the same. You won't turn full demon," Satan spoke gently, answering his unanswered concern. "You'll just have some "advantages" that demons have."

"What kind of advantages?" Stan asked.

"I don't actually know yet, but most likely levitation, possible mind control, powers of Lilith could be another, additional strength" he began to rattle off possibilities, as the small family sat there absorbing it all.

"Setting fires," Shelly inputted.

"Yep, yeah, that too," Satan nodded, pointing at the teenager.

For a moment the room became still, perhaps the Dark Lord had rendered everything completely mute. The outside couldn't be heard and the gentle chimes of their home had turned silent. Each one of them sat in the room surrounded by quietness as they tried to gather their thoughts. Some were worrisome ones for their son, others selfish, and a few filled with fear.

"Can't you just remove it? Get it out of him?" Sharon tearfully asked, looking over at her only son.

Satan's shoulders slumped. Sharon's pained face was something he wish he could reap and use as a torture against newcomers in his domain, because it cut to the core. Everyone on this grassy sphere praised that creature above. The same one who cast him out. Yet where was God when he made a mistake? He didn't make house calls to explain his error. He was here, admitting fault and yet he knew the family would go to bed tonight and pray to God. Thank God.

Sharon watched Satan, hoping him not answering right away meant that he was mulling over a possibility. Truth was, there could have been, back when he first returned to Hell. Sitting at his desk, three years back, and inwardly groaning about his own poor luck, he could have noticed the small slip of paper explaining his mistake. He could have quickly corrected it but the time limit had long surpassed and the note untouched.

"No," Satan finally answered and Sharon let out a quiet whimper.

Stan frowned, standing up from the chair and moving over to give his mother a reassuring hug. It sucked, he wasn't going to lie, but his life wasn't over. In fact, he saw this as a new beginning. Something he could take by the horns and a challenge he could face head on. He'd learn from the obstacles and grow from the mistakes he would most certainly make.

Even if he was some Satan spawn, there was one conviction ringing loud and penetrating the muted living room; He was Stan motherfucking Marsh.

 _ **A/N: This story is a result of plenty of whiskey and late nights with my super best friends. This story will get ridiculous so if you are looking for a serious story this probably isn't it. If you enjoy stupid humor, demon powers, and Stan being a dumb ass (toolshed, come on) stick around.**_


	2. My Boyfriend Can Score

Chapter One

"Welcome Cows, to the 5th game of the year. Before we start the kickoff we'd like to give a special thanks to our fire department and precinct 12 for being out here tonight. Round of applause for them."

The large crowd broke into thunderous sound as everyone gleefully clapped and a few loud whistles broke out. The police and firefighters waved back politely, more than happy to be there. Their palettes firing with the sweet taste of barbecued delights and chilled soda served to them as gratitude. They got to enjoy a game, free food and experience a task not many firemen get to.

Tonight was another game against Middleton. They were ahead in standings all thanks to the persistence and skill of their quarterback. Stan did however, have one barrier facing him and it was the reason the fire department and police department attended every game.

"Middleton Tigers get ready for the kickoff. The Tigers recently had to replace Burke Trapps after the last game with the Cows. We all remember that thrilling game," the announcer said and again the crowd cheered.

"Starting his first away game is Matthew Gregory and he's getting ready to send the ball towards the Cows," on the field an average height teen with sandy brown hair and boyish face sent the ball across the field. An excited atmosphere took off as the ball landed into Kenny's hands and the team made their way towards the other side.

South Park High had to put in a lot of time and money in maintaining its football field. When Stan came to the field his freshmen year, there had been an uproar of upset parents. Concern sprouted from their mouths when Stan had his first incident. Several saw Stan's oddity as an unfair advantage for the Cows, but Stan and his coach assured the district that Stan's powers in no way helped him play and could be argued was a hindrance rather.

In the past, it had been rare for the stands to be filled with spectators and on the occasion there was, it was to cheer on the rival team. However, that changed when Stan Marsh became the school's quarterback and now chants of Go Cows rang with a booming roar.

"Looks like THE McCormick is taking a knee. Good kick from Gregory," the announcer said.

Stan got up from the bench and turned around to give a small smile at someone before slipping on his helmet. The crowd applauded excitedly, as he made his way towards the others on the field.

"And here he is, our favorite quarterback," the announcer spoke, as play resumed. "Marsh has had only two interceptions since he became South Park's quarterback, and Token Black catches the pass."

Stan watched Token rush down the field before being tackled at the 27th. The crowd applauded and Stan took his position behind Clyde.

"Marsh scans the field and it looks like Black is open again, but oh no, Marsh hands the ball off to Tweek Tweak and he's off," the announcer said. "He's tackled at the 32nd."

The game continued and soon the Cows were 15 yards away from the end-zone. Stan took a moment to feel satisfied the game was going in their favor and his powers hadn't influenced it one bit.

"Holy cow! Marsh makes an incredible throw and is it…YES! Tweak catches it in the end zone," the crowd erupted into cheers, flags and banners waving as the scoreboard flashed 6-0. Kenny made the kick and the 6 changed to a 7.

Gathering his breath, Stan plopped down at the bench and watched as the defensive team made their way onto the field. He turned around, catching Kyle's eye who was sitting in the stands next to his girlfriend, Bebe. Kyle gave him a thumbs up and Stan snorted, smiling back at his best friend. Sometimes it sucked that Kyle had left the team but with all advanced classes, basketball, and college prep courses, Stan understood. He turned his attention back to the game.

The Tiger's quarterback made a pass and it was caught by someone named Fletcher. Stan watched as Fletcher barely made it towards their own side when Cartman tackled him hard to the ground. Stan's heart leapt as the ball slipped from his hands, flying into the air.

"Stotch catches the ball and makes his way down the field," the announcer said as everyone cheered, "he's tackled at the 5. The ball is turned over to the Cows."

Stan ran back to the field. He looked over to see Cartman taunting the Tiger's quarterback, his face sneering and make rude gestures.

"Cartman!" Stan yelled, but it was too late, as the whistle blew.

"Oh, looks like the Cows will be getting a penalty for unsportsmanlike conduct."

The crowd booed and jeered as the team re-positioned at the 20 yard instead.

"Nice going, assface," Wendell snapped at Cartman.

"Fuck off," Cartman retorted.

"We were right there," Clyde said, "why'd you have to go and do that, Cartman?"

"Enough," Stan firmly said. "Let's just play."

The game resumed and after awhile, the board read 21-7. Middleton had finally scored. The Cows had managed to avoid any more penalties, a rare accomplishment.

"The Cows do get an extra penalty if an interception is prevented due to a sudden gust of wind," the announcer explained. "During his first year, Marsh would occasionally use his wind powers to send the opposing side away from the ball. The Cows agreed doing that would result in a 20 yard penalty."

Stan ran towards the 25 after Kenny took a knee from Gregory's kick. He got behind Clyde once more. He called out a few words and the ball swooped back, landing perfectly into his hands. Quickly, he ran back, watching as his teammates fought against the opposing side. Each one trying to protect him and deep down probably trying to protect their opponent from the possibility of Stan's ailment.

"Marsh throws the ball to Black at the 30, but it's caught by a Middleton player at the 40," the crowd groaned and cursed.

"Fuck!" Stan hissed under his breath, watching as the player made his way into the end zone and the board flashed a new score.

The whistle blew, signaling intermission and the teams quickly left the field. Stan could feel a few hands slapping him on the back, reassuring him. He looked over to see Kyle and Bebe making their way through the crowd.

"Hey," Kyle greeted.

"Great game," Bebe said smiling.

Stan raised a brow, frowning and Kyle laughed, shaking his head. "Dude, you guys are still up and it was the first interception in how long?"

"True," Stan admitted bitterly.

"Great job," Chris Donnely, the Cows fullback, said joining the trio. His blonde hair was plastered to his head, beads of sweat dripping down.

"Thanks D-Bag," Stan said and Chris frowned at his unfortunate nickname.

"Way to go Stan," Cartman whined, angrily smashing a paper cup and tossing to the ground. "We could have easily defeated them but now we have to worry about them coming back. Did you forget Middleton actually has a good team and not just a freak?"

"Shut up fat ass!" Kyle yelled, clenching his fists and raising them slightly, ready to strike.

"No asked for you to be here, Kahl," Cartman sneered, turning his anger to the redhead instead. "Go back to the stands where your precious ass is protected."

"Where's Craig?" Stan asked suddenly, just now noticing the absence of the taller boy.

"He had to go and pick up Tricia from band practice, but he'll be back," Bebe explained while Cartman and Kyle still glared at each other. She pulled on Kyle's sleeve. "Come on Ky, lets go back. The game's about to start again."

And sure enough the whistle blew and the crowd cheered again. Taking a deep breath, Stan made his way back onto the field.

"Don't fuck this up," Cartman warned, as the team began positioning themselves. Stan rolled his eyes.

"Don't worry, Eric," Butters yelled from the other side. "Stan's got this!"

The nerves hit when he crouched down. He could hear the sound of his name echoing all around and he could have sworn even some Middleton folks were cheering him on. He was sure some had come just to see the freak show and really could care less about the game. However, playing the game the best to his mortal ability was all he could hope for.

He called out and the ball landed into his hands. He scanned the field searching for an open player.

"Marsh looks for an open player. Not many choices it seems, but… I don't believe this! Marsh once again makes another incredible throw all the way down the field towards Tweek Tweak," the announcer yelled excitedly and the crowd went wild. Both Stan and Tweek's name echoing throughout the cold air. "And Tweak catches it!"

Stan cheered with everyone, Tweak barely had to run to make yet another touchdown for the Cows.

"That good enough for you Cartman?" Stan asked and the scoreboard flashed 28-14 after another successful kick by THE McCormick.

Middleton's offensive team and Cows defensive team were back on the field. Stan took a seat at the bench and watched the game.

The Tigers struggled to make it through the Cow's defensive unit. Stan owed a lot of his fame to his team's incredible defensive talent. As much as he hated to admit it, Cartman was a great player to have on the team. He managed to tackle many of the players with the ball.

After the third attempt, the Middleton quarterback finally decided to pass to a different player and they were able to slip past Trent Boyett and into the end-zone. Thankfully, the kicker missed the kick and the score became 28-20.

"What an incredible game so far tonight. The score is awfully close and so far nothing out of the unusual has happened. Marsh gets into position and he has the ball. He's looking—he hands the ball off to Tweek. Who—," the announcer's words faltered off, confused by what was happening on the field. No one could blame him.

"This is too much pressure!" Tweek exclaimed, his hazel eyes bulging and whole body shaking. Before anyone had time to say anything, he tossed the ball into the air and ran off the field.

"Wendell catches the ball and is tackled at the 40 line," the announcer said still sounding baffled. "Well that certainly was unexpected. It looks like the Cows lost a player and will have to put in someone else."

Helmet way too big for his head and jersey slipping off his shoulders, Scott Malkinson entered the game. There was a quiet groan from a few of the players on the team. Stan wasn't among them.

"Ready to play guys!" Scott said.

"I am going to rip Tweek limb by limb for this," Cartman muttered under his breath.

"Come on guys," Stan called and they got back into position.

"It looks like the Cows have replaced their running back with Scott Malkinson. For the few of you who don't know this, Scott has diabetes, but we are being told his current blood sugar is 160 and he's good to play!" the announcer said. The crowd politely clapped. The score board suddenly flashed, displaying Scott's current blood sugar.

A few minutes later the Cows were at the 5 yard with one down left.

"Looks like Marsh is gonna throw the ball to Black. No, he passes to the other side of the end zone to Malkinson, who was left uncovered and it's caught! Cows 34-20!"

"I did it guys," Scott happily called as the team gathered around him, cheering. "I gotta go test my blood sugar."

Middleton was barely able to score their next touchdown, but with the score at 35-27 the Cows were in trouble of falling behind and losing.

Back on the field, in the 4th quarter, Stan took a calming breath. The desperate calls of his teammates and the crowd blended orders and cheers. He ignored it all. He could make out Scott frantically running towards him, arms waving in the air and screaming his name. Stan lifted the ball ready to send it at the blonde, until he noticed a Middleton player in the corner of his eye. He bit his lip. Throwing the ball to Scott would invite an interception.

"Marsh is looking for someone to pass the ball to. Doesn't look there's an opening," the announcer said.

Taking in the scene before him, Stan knew he was right. His teammates were either flattened to the ground or struggling in a strength battle. Scott had already been slammed down, leaving no one open.

"Staaaaaaaan! Come on!" he could hear his father screaming with distraught and desperation.

Making up his mind and also because a particularly large Middleton player was running at him, Stan took off.

As if the world had been put on mute, Stan could barely make out the crowd as Stan twisted and turned his body to dodge the oncoming players. His lungs expanded, taking in the hard and bitter air slapping him across the face. His fingers digging into the ball, snug under his armpit. It felt like the ground beneath him was trembling, the field suddenly becoming uneven. Stan paid it no attention. His sight was set only on the yellow goal posts.

Finally the sound picked up again and Stan could hear the crowd going crazy as the announcer said "Cows win! 30-27!"

"Huh? 30?" Stan said confused. He spun around and his shoulders slumped. The entire field was torn apart. Great chunks were missing and the goal post he had run past had been shattered to dust. Most of the players had already abandoned the field but a few were laying spread eagle on the ground, including his own teammates.

"For those of you confused by the score," the announcer spoke. "Cows lose 5 points anytime Stan uses his powers to score and once again, let's thank our fire department and precinct 12 for being here to clean up this mess."

* * *

The atmosphere at Shakey's was happy to say the least. No one cared that the Cows had lost 10 points in the final score. They were just thrilled to have won another game this season.

"That pass you made to Donnely in the 3rd was incredible," Kyle said, handing off a few orders of fries and taking a seat next to Bebe.

"Thanks Ky. I'm just glad someone was able to see it," he said as his eyes slid off to the man next to him.

"The entire school and town saw it," Craig said dully, taking a fry off Stan's tray.

"Not everyone," Stan muttered, frowning.

"I'm sorry I decided to be a responsible big brother and miss one game," Craig said, faking a sigh.

"You know I'm not upset you picked up Tricia," Stan grumbled. "You had plenty of time to come back, though."

Craig responded by giving Stan a quick kiss on the cheek and snatching a few more fries off his tray. "You know you could have gotten your own when Kyle asked?" Stan said and Craig shrugged.

"We got the championship in the bag," Kenny announced and plopped down next to Craig, causing him and Stan to scoot over. He reached over and took a sip from Craig's soda.

"There's a seat right there," Craig scowled pointing at an empty chair, "And get your own damn drink."

"See, it's annoying when people take your food," Stan said.

"No, I just don't want to swap spit with him," Craig countered, moving his drink away from Kenny's reach.

"Speaking of that, where's Damien?" Stan asked.

Kenny shrugged. "Something probably went down in Hell. I tried summoning him outside, but no answer. I'm sure he'll come around soon."

The night continued with different team mates coming up and congratulating Stan on yet another victory. He exchanged conversations with a few, even getting into a slight debate with Donnely about statistics. Eventually, after awhile, Damien arrived, taking a seat next to Bebe and Kyle who barely realized the newcomer as they were viciously lip-locked.

In that moment, Stan was content with the world. The chatter around him playing like a comforting song. He happily rested his head on Craig's shoulder, inhaling his cheap cologne. He looked up at the light fixtures, not wanting to stare ahead at Kyle and Bebe.

As he began counting the tiles above and Craig continued to steal fries from his plate, he decided instances like these were better than any victory on the field.

 _ **A/N: This chapter was a bitch. I don't play or watch football and I actually printed out a picture of a football field and had stickers for each player so I could see how the game would go. I owe my editor/friend a lot of all his help and football knowledge.**_


	3. My Boyfriend is a Drama Geek

Craig had never been one for after-school activities. When the final bell rang, he preferred to quickly make his way home and enjoy the solitude of his own bedroom. He could spends hours browsing websites about space, watch reruns of Red Racer, or attempt to finish up some homework only to ultimately push it off until the following morning. When his selective group of friends would try and convince him to join one of their fruity little clubs, Craig would just roll his eyes.

That changed though, when he began his relationship with Stan. He knew going into it Stan was the poster boy of someone with true school spirit. He was the star quarterback after all, and had finally brought victory to the Cows after years of losing.

To show he cared, Craig would wait after school while Stan attended practice. The first few weeks were like torture for him. How people could stand staying at the school longer than an average school day baffled him. However, he told himself to endure for the sake of his relationship. He had already lost one due to his stubborn selfishness. Thankfully, Stan was happy to show his appreciation.

He slowly found ways to entertain himself while Stan was busy. He would linger around the backlot, trying to bum a cigarette from the goths. That changed though, after Stan threatened to just light his ass on fire if he ever caught him with a cancer stick again. After that, he took to roaming the empty halls and peering into classrooms where clubs were meeting. He remembered once stumbling into the Orthodontics Dreamers club and realizing the school didn't really care about the clubs that were formed, as long as people were getting together.

One day during his explorations, he stumbled inside the drama department. Seeing how overly extravagant and unbelievably peppy the whole lot was, Craig hurriedly took off. He had rounded the corner and ran head first into his ex-boyfriend, Tweek. It had been a moment of uncomfortable pleasantries. He learned Tweak was working on the lighting and sound crew for the play. He had requested a day off from football practice because the fall show was coming up.

Somehow Craig found himself back at the drama club the following day. He became well acquainted with each department. There was the lighting and sound, publicity, set, make-up, and many others. One year and three months later, he was now the chairman of the lighting and sound department.

Joining the club had given him two things. He had something to do that he actually enjoyed while he waited for Stan and soon it became Stan waiting for him. He also finally got closure and became friends once again with Tweek.

Stan had been sour when he discovered his boyfriend was spending hours of his free time with his ex-boyfriend. Craig explained being around his old flame helped solidify his feelings for Stan. Tweek was nice enough but he wasn't who Craig loved. If Tweek ever asked to rekindle their relationship, Craig knew without a doubt he could, and would, say no. Tweek never did and likely because he was dating some college dude.

Today Craig, Tweek, Jimmy, and Heidi were sorting through color gels and selecting ones for different scenes. Mr. Mackey had announced last week the fall play was going to be Romeo + Juliet. Craig had groaned audibly at that.

Mackey hadn't cast the actors yet, but that didn't stop him from badgering Craig into promising him he'd have at least one scene lit properly.

"I like to see what my potential actors will look like during the actual play, m'kay." Mr. Mackey had explained.

Craig was currently leaning over a sketch of the scene, the famous balcony scene, with gels stacked beside him.

"Pass me one of those blue gels," Craig said pointing to an arrangement of colored gels where Tweek was sitting. "The dark one…yeah."

"Wh-what are you th-th-thinking for this?" Jimmy asked, peering down at the sketch and the gels in Craig's hand.

"Probably something red," Tweek said, scanning the gels for a blood red. "It's the big romantic scene after all."

Craig shook his head. "No, I'm thinking blues, frosted and maybe a pink."

"Why those colors?" Heidi asked. "Wouldn't the red help with the passion of the scene?"

"No, the scene is less about passion and more innocent love like a crush. The only reason there is so much passion behind it is because of their families' feud. If we just look at the balcony scene, all it is is two people, younger than us, confessing their crushes," Craig hastily explained. "We can use blue to help establish it's night. The frost and the set lights to help give it a soft glow. That'll help with the whole innocence of the scene and then a pink gel. That one will help with the romantic part. It won't feel overdone like a red could."

"Y-yo-you're the expert," Jimmy said.

"Do we know what set plans on creating for this scene? We might want to run the design by them," Heidi suggested.

"I talked with Mr. Alder yesterday," Tweek said. "It sounds like they plan on—

But what exactly the set department was planning, they didn't find out. A disgruntled noise turned their attention to Stan sulking his way over with Cartman close behind.

"Something the matter?" Craig asked, not bothering to sound concerned. He knew the answer already just by the scowl. "Have a bad day at practice?"

"No," Stan snapped, folding his arms.

"It's a little early. How come it ended so soon? Something happen?" Tweek asked, looking from Stan's upset glare to Cartman's relaxed smile.

"It was cancelled. They still haven't properly fixed the field from last game," Cartman responded, shifting his eyes over to Stan for a moment. "What are you fags doing here?"

"Be nice," Heidi warned, punching his forearm gently. He rolled his eyes, but leaned forward to her a quick kiss on the lips.

"How you managed to get the second best looking girl at this school, I'll never know," Stan grimaced.

"Excuse me," Heidi said, drawing herself to full height and placing her hands on her hips. "Second best?"

"I'm contractually obligated to call Bebe the best looking girl. Part of my best friend duties," he said and Heidi chuckled, leaning back against Cartman.

"I as-as-assume the b-b-best looking guy would be," Jimmy began, turning to Craig.

"Kenny," Stan answered and Craig flipped him off.

"You're a little ray of sunshine today," Craig said to Stan. "Care to tell me what happened?"

For a moment, Stan stood there, glaring back at his boyfriend while he gnawed at the inside of cheek. He looked over to see Heidi and Cartman whispering in each other's ear, giggling and then to Tweek and Jimmy watching him as well. He knew he could stand there forever, upset and angry, and Craig would just wait. He would wait and then tell Stan he was being stupid. Craig had an annoy habit of finding easy solutions to problems Stan saw catastrophic.

"Fine," he spat, dramatically throwing his hands over his head. A small burst slipped through, expelling a flame that landed right on Tweek's sleeve. The blonde yelled in shock and frantically began trying to extinguish the fire.

"I went to see Mackey and according to him, my transcript might not be good enough to get into the schools I want to. I have good enough grades and I'm the fucking quarterback," Stan ranted. "But no, apparently that's not enough. I should have done student council or taken AP classes like you and Kyle."

Craig placed a hand on Stan's shoulder giving him a quick squeeze before pulling him for hug. "Do you want to hear my advice?" Craig asked, looking over the top of Stan's head to see Jimmy had finally managed to help put Tweek out.

"Yes," Stan bitterly admitted into Craig's shirt.

He pressed two fingers under Stan's chin, tilting his head up. He pressed his lips to Stan, happy to feel the other man relax slightly against him. He ignored the noise of disgust from Cartman and Heidi's cooing. He pulled away and was pleased to see Stan smiling at him.

"You just have to find another club to join," Craig said. "That's all."

"How can I join a club and still attend football practice," he said "Besides all the clubs here are little…"

"Gay," Cartman finished, earning himself a flick on the ear from Heidi.

"You could join drama club," Heidi offered. "Tweek's able to do both."

Stan turned to Tweek as he automatically flinched expecting another burst of fire towards his way. "That's true," Stan muttered. "But I'm sorry, I can't take days off from practice like Tweek does."

"Why not try out for the play," Craig countered.

"It won't interfere with practice. Mackey always makes sure rehearsal takes place when practice isn't happening," Tweek added. "I think it's because he wants one of the football players to try out and draw in a crowd."

"Yeah...alright," Stan said, as the idea began to slowly settle right with him. "I think I'll try out for Our Town."

"Romeo + Juliet," Craig corrected, but Stan shook his head.

"I'm more in the mood for Die Hard tonight," he said, giving Craig a quick kiss on the cheek. Craig sighed, wrapping his arm around Stan and placing him against his hip. He was going to have to work extra hard to get Stan ready for tryouts next week. However, Craig thought smiling down at him, that meant a lot of favors from Stan.

A/N: Stan's in mood.


	4. My Boyfriend is Romeo

Stan shifted in his seat, leaning past Craig to look towards the small bulletin board for what was probably the tenth time since they arrived. He bit his lip, casting a look towards the hallway, hoping in that moment Mr. Mackey might appear. His nerves were causing a small gust of wind that was making Bebe and Kyle's curls bounce around their head.

"If you're that worried about the results, why don't you just go find Mackey?" Craig droned and Stan's eyes snapped back to him. The wind ceased.

"Because if I didn't get the part then I'll look like a fool asking," Stan responded. He picked up his fork and begin poking at his mashed potatoes, never bothering to actually eat it.

"I'm sure you got it," Bebe said, smiling reassuringly. "Which part did you try out for?"

"Romeo," Stan mumbled.

"Wow, the lead. That'll be a big part to play, but I'm sure you've got it," Kyle added hastily, seeing the frown on Stan's face. "Do you know who's tried out for Juliet?"

"Every damn girl in this school," Craig said, rolling his eyes. "They're all looking forward to that onstage kiss."

"Well they'll be disappointed when they discover it's you," Bebe said, pointing a fork with a piece of chicken dangling at Stan. He chuckled softly and sighed.

"There, there," Craig said, patting his head and Stan cocked a brow.

"I prefer you didn't pat me like a dog in public," Stan said, glaring up at his much taller counterpart.

Craig opened his mouth to answer but was cut off by Kyle pointing towards the hallway. Stan whipped around so fast he felt a crick in his neck. Rubbing it furiously, he watched Mr. Mackey pintack the results right next to the upcoming bake sale notice.

"Aren't you going to go over?" Craig asked.

"No, I have to wait until at least a few others go up first," Stan responded, looking around the lunchroom. "I can't seem too eager."

Craig snorted. "I doubt anyone here is as anxious as you," he said, but soon enough, students began to slowly make their way over towards the sign, including Butters, Donnely, Kenny and Scott Malkinson.

"I didn't know more people from the team tried out," Bebe said.

"Why didn't you try out?" Craig asked Bebe "You're well known for your dramatics."

Bebe scoffed, brushing her thick blonde curls over her shoulders and glancing sideways at Kyle. "If you must know, I missed the tryout day for Juliet," she said loftily as a blush begin to appear on her face and Kyle's face.

Craig wrinkled his nose in disgust as Stan said "Oh man, it would have been perfect if you were playing Juliet. I know you and kissing you would be like kissing nothing."

"Thanks Stan," Kyle said lowly, as Bebe chuckled.

The group looked over as Kenny plopped down besides Kyle, smiling happily at them.

"What's up?" Kyle asked.

"You're now looking at the school's new Mercutio," he said, proudly jabbing a thumb at his chest. "I can't wait to tell Damien. He won't give a shit, but I like telling him happy news. It always brings him down."

"And people think Stan and Craig are the odd couple," Kyle said. "Did you see who else was cast?"

Kenny smiled, shaking his finger at the group who all raised their brows in confusion. "First off, Damien and I are not a couple. We are merely bedroom fanatics. Second," he emphasized as Craig showed signs of wanting to interrupt. "I did see the rest of the cast. Red is playing Juliet."

"She's not bad looking," Kyle said and Bebe turned to face her boyfriend, brow raised behind her thick curls. "I meant for someone Stan has to kiss. I mean better Red or Heidi then Lisa Burger."

Bebe smiled, kissing Kyle quickly in the cheek. "It's fine hun. You can make a list ranking all the girls in the school if you wanted. I'm still the one you'll come crawling to."

"Well I'm done with this conversation," Stan mumbled, looking away while Bebe and Kyle stared googly eyed at each other. He got up from his seat and taking a deep breath, made his way to the piece of paper.

"Goff lwuck," Craig called through a mouthful of food.

He reached the board; the words Tryout Results of Romeo + Juliet were large and bold and beneath it were a list of names in regular print. He didn't have to look down much further to see the name Romeo, followed by several dotted lines towards a name. Stan gasped and then let out a noise of excitement.

"I'm betting he got it," Kyle said, leaning past Kenny to see Stan nearly skipping his way back.

"Well there you have it. I got the part," Stan announced happily, sitting back down.

"Who else is in the play?" Kyle asked. "Besides you, Kenny and Red."

Stan shrugged. "I didn't look at the whole list. Michael, you know, one of the goth kids, got a part and it looks like Butters is my understudy."

"Cartman is mine," Kenny added. "He might have actually gotten my part if he hadn't gone off script."

"Well anyways, we'll find out more later today. After school is the first rehearsal," Stan said.

"So soon?" Bebe said, looking mildly surprised.

"Oh yeah, Mr. Mackey takes his plays very seriously," Craig answered. "How about I meet you outside your last class and we can head there together."

Stan smiled, a tingling of excitement at his accomplishment surged through him and suddenly Kenny found himself being lifted off the ground then crashing down.

"Sorry Ken," Stan said embarrassingly as Kenny got back into his seat. "I got excited."

Kenny waved his hand, brushing away Stan's concern. "It's fine. Damien does it to me all the time, but it's usually when I am annoying him."

"Well we should bring Damien around more often," Craig drawled and Kenny stuck his tongue out at the taller boy.

The rest of their conversation was cut short by the sound of the bell. Swinging his bag over his shoulder, Stan gave Craig a brief kiss before setting off to European History class with Kyle.

* * *

It seemed like he had just blinked and already Stan was standing on the stage, dressed from head to toe in a ridiculous, frilly costume.

"Now listen, I don't know how many times I've given the speech before, m'kay, but it needs to be said" Mr. Mackey began, slowly pacing the stage. "I take this job and the plays here very seriously. Most of you know me from your elementary school days. I left because no one there could ever give me a goddamn performance that could captivate an audience, m'kay. And I see you there Pete M about to say something. I don't give a fuck what age you are. When I demand the very best, I better get better than your best."

The cast looked nervously at each other, wondering briefly if their enthusiasm for the play had just been completely stomped out.

"I picked you lot because out of all the sad and fucking pathetic try outs I had to sit through all week, you stood out the most," he continued. "That's not saying much because some of you still really suck. You just didn't suck as hard, m'kay. So don't think for one second what you gave me last week is what I want."

He walked down the steps towards the rows of seats and plopped down in the second row. "Now, we are going to start off with the balcony scene. It's one of the most important scenes, m'kay, and it'll give me time to see you two's chemistry." He pointed to Stan and Red who looked nervously at each other. "Let's get to it."

Moments later, Red was standing in a small tower built by the set department. Her usually straight red hair was lightly curled with a flowered headband and she was wearing a long, flowing white gown. She smiled down at Stan.

"Lights!" Mackey called and Stan could make out Craig and Tweek in the lighting booth moving about. "And action."

Red leaned against the edge of the balcony, intertwined with fake vines and leaves. Stan cleared his throat.

"But soft! What light through yonder window breaks? It is the east, and Juliet is the sun. Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon, Who is already sick and pale with grief," Stan said with a carrying whisper as Red continued to stare dreamily across the stage. "That thou, her maid, art far more fair—"

"Cut!" Mackey yelled and Stan and Red turned to face him. His elbows were resting on his thigh, head buried into his palms as he whispered quietly to himself.

"What?" Red called. "We can't hear you, Mr. Mackey."

"We are going to try again from the top and Stan actually fucking try this time, m'kay?!" he yelled back. Stan opened his mouth to retort but remembering advice from Craig earlier, snapped it shut. "Action."

"But soft! What light through yonder window breaks? It is the east, and —" Stan recited sure enough he sounded perfectly fine but the slam of a fist on an armrest told otherwise.

"God damnit Stan!" Mr. Mackey shouted, "Why aren't you getting this? You're acting like she's just some fucking chick walking down the street. She isn't just the most beautiful girl in the room. She's the most beautiful girl in your whole world so fucking act like it! M'kay?!"

"I'm trying!" Stan snapped back, growing agitated.

"Well try again and... action," he said.

Exhaling an annoyed huff, he spun back around to face up at Red who looked unnerved at this point.

"But soft! What light through yonder window breaks? It is the east, and Juliet is the sun. Arise, fair sun, and kill the—"

"Cut!" Mackey called again.

"What is it this time?" Stan asked exasperatedly.

Mr. Mackey got up from his seat, making his way over to the edge of the stage. "I don't care if you have to pretend Red up there is Kyle," he began.

"What!" Stan yelped "Gross!"

"Or whoever else you are raw doggin' in the fart box with, m'kay, but right now, in this auditorium, she," he pointed up to Red who shifted uncomfortably "is the one fucking person you care about! Now let's do this again!"

He returned back to seat and again called action.

Giving himself a little shake in an attempt to control his rising anger, Stan repeated the first three lines once more. Surprisingly, there were no interruptions this time and he proceeded further past any line he'd been able to reach before. As he continued to recite the lines, trying his hardest to sound and appear head over heels in love with Red, he could make out noises from Mackey. The constant "ugh" and "tsk" was growing steadily more annoying but he pressed on.

Suddenly, the group of other actors let out a shout of surprise, as one of the curtains caught fire out of nowhere. Then Red let out a terrified scream, as the balcony she was on came crashing down and she landed awkwardly on the stage in a heap.

"Oh fuck," Stan whispered and rushed over to Red's side. "Red, fuck, I'm so sorry."

"I think it's broken," she whimpered, clutching her ankle. Her face was pale white and pain stricken.

The rest of the cast made their way over.

Donnely leaned down, pressing a hand to her ankle and she yelped. "Yeah, you landed on it weird. Come, we should get you to the hospital." He lifted one arm over his shoulder and Kenny scrambled to grab the other arm.

"Red, I'm really sorry," Stan pleaded watching Donnely and Kenny helping her up. She tried to throw him a dirty look but it only resulted in another pained expression.

When Red was finally made as comfortable as possible and an ambulance was on it's way, Mr. Mackey turned his attention back to Stan.

"Stan," he said softly, sounding almost calm this time. "I chose you because out of all those who came, you made a very, very good impression, m'kay. I don't know where that's gone. Maybe it was beginner's luck. But after today's performance and catastrophe, it doesn't look like you'll be getting any better."

"Mr. Mackey, please. I know I can do this. I promise you," Stan said. "I really need this."

"And I really need you to get your fucking act together, Stanley, whatever your fucking middle name is, Marsh! Your abysmal performance could improve, m'kay, but what about this little problem you have? I can't risk my cast getting injured when you feel angry or scared or whatever fucking teenage emotion you're having!"

Stan bit his lip, past the furious councilor and the pane of glass, he could see Craig watching him sadly. Stan knew every word Mackey was saying was right. He let his powers get the best of him, never trying to master and understand them. Instead, simply viewing them as a side effect of what he was, of what he had become so many years ago, when he was young and foolish. He had enough though. It was time he stopped allowing his contaminated part to rule his life.

 _ **A/N: Mr. Mackey based off the episode Tooth Decay and a hint of Mystery of the Urinal Deuce**_


	5. My Boyfriend Can Fly

Kyle lived for late afternoons like these. He returned home from school to find the house empty. There was a small note apologizing and explaining that his mom had taken Ike to run some errands and his father would be working late at the office. Inside the fridge was a pre-prepared meal with a sticky note attached with cooking instructions. A quiet house was rare for Kyle and he knew exactly how to take advantage of it.

Upstairs in his room, Bebe and him sat with their arms wrapped around each other and leaning against the wooden bed frame. This was Kyle's favorite pastime. Laughing and talking with Bebe and then without much preemption or explanation needed, they'd start sucking face.

Sometimes, it was a light peck and those made his heart flutter like a dirty secret being whispered only to him. Other times, it was hot and heavy and those he felt his whole body lose itself, like an out of body experience. There had only been a few times they had gone all the way. Each time had been as exciting and nerve-wracking as the next.

Kyle recalled the first time being in the back of Stan's pickup truck. He had borrowed it and driven Bebe to an open field. Using an old blanket. he created a small picnic underneath a canopy of stars. After they had finished a bottle of cheap wine and a home-cooked meal from Kyle, they used the blanket and truck bed to celebrate more than just the stars that night. Later, Kyle lied and blamed Cartman for the reason why the back of his truck doesn't close properly.

Now it was another fury of passion, each's fingers tangled and locked in yellow and red curls. The muscles of their tongues massaging each other with soft pleasurable moans. Kyle's hand slipped down, cupping her breast and she made a sound of approval. Above the red cotton, he kneaded for a bit before slipping his hand underneath and searching for the clasp of bra.

Pulling away, Bebe looked at Kyle watching her with lust-filled eyes. "You're sure your parents won't be home?" she asked breathlessly.

Kyle nodded, smashing his lips to her again and she returned with equaled frenzy. It continued for awhile, the removal of their clothing pausing just so they kiss. They had all night.

"Um, Kyle," Bebe said hesitantly. Kyle hummed, guessing she was going to ask if he remembered to pick up condoms. He kissed along her jawline up to her earlobe. Nudging him on the shoulder, she pulled away and Kyle looked up worried.

"What's up?" he asked gently. Bebe didn't respond but pointed behind the redhead. Turning his head around, Kyle could see Stan hovering outside his window, dressed in a matching green leotard and green tights with what looked to be fake leaves glued on. Heaving a deep sigh, he turned back to Bebe.

"Ignore him, maybe he'll go away," he whispered, attempting to kiss her again, but Bebe shook her head. "Maybe he can't see us, if we stay absolutely still."

"Kyle," she said warningly and the redhead pouted. Why of all nights did Stan choose this one to fly outside his window? He had grown used to this and always had an "open-window" policy but fate just wanted to be cruel.

"Fine," he groaned, getting off the bed and making his way to the window. Opening it up, Stan continued to move his arms with a breaststroke motion, his feet kicking furiously in place.

"Are you gonna come in?" Kyle asked annoyed, but seeing the look of despair on his best friend's face, Kyle's demeanor calmed. "You okay, dude?"

Stan flew through the window past Kyle and sat down in his desk chair.

"Stan, did something happen?" Bebe asked as Kyle took a seat next to her. "Did-did you and Craig fight?"

Stan sighed, shaking his head. "No, no, we're fine." He looked around the room, observing all the old things from their childhood and all the new stuff Kyle had collected with time. Most were academic achievements and a few basketball trophies. Again, he sighed. Kyle had achieved those with pure athletic talent. He didn't have a freak disease.

"I don't know what to do anymore," he whispered.

"With what?" he asked. The only time he had seen Stan like this was when he was sure Craig might leave him for Tweek. He waited while Stan gnawed at his lip and scowled at the floor.

"These powers I have. This stupid fucking infliction!" he finally yelled, shaking his arms as if to throw them off. "I'm tired of it and I want it out of me!"

Bebe and Kyle glanced at each other; neither quite sure what to say next. Leaning forward, Bebe bit her lip before carefully asking "Stan, did something happen?"

"Yes, I'm a fucking freak. That's what happened," he snapped, rolling his eyes. Bebe frowned and Stan sighed.

"Sorry," he mumbled ashamedly at the look both Bebe and Kyle were giving him.

"Stan, what's wrong, dude?" Kyle asked again. "If you need to vent, feel free, but if something happened, we need to know."

"Mackey is threatening to kick me off the play because I set the stage on fire and caused Red to break her leg," Stan explained.

"Oh Stan, it's just a stupid play. Craig even told us how insane Mackey is with this stuff. We can find a different club," Bebe assured him.

Stan shook his head. "It's not just that. He said something. He said I have no control over it and we all know he's right. Look what happened to Kenny at lunch or the times I've set Tweek on fire," the corner of Kyle's lips twitched for a second. "The only reason Red got injured was because Mackey was yelling at me to perform better. What happens in the real world when someone is being a douche? I am just going cause a fire or a building to collapse?"

"Stan, have you ever tried to get them under control?" Bebe asked and Stan frowned at the question.

"When Satan told you, did you ask for lessons or advice or anything?" Kyle added.

"No, I just accepted it," he answered with a shrug. "They were never really a huge problem. A minor annoyance here and there, but nothing I thought I needed to ask help for."

The couple looked at each other, trying to communicate silently what they both thought was a possibility to Stan's problem. Kyle leaned forward kissing Bebe on the cheek. Stan's distraught face looked between the two, wondering if him and Craig were this in synch. He could barely get Craig to remember his asthma medication when he texted him a reminder three times.

"I can't ask Satan for help," Stan said, catching onto what Bebe and Kyle were going to suggest. "He's way too busy and besides, so am I."

"True, but there has to be someone or someway you can at least learn, " Bebe said.

The room barely fell into a second of silence when Kyle let out an excited gasp and a dawn of comprehension came over the redhead.

"What?" Stan asked, startled.

"How did we not think of him before?" Kyle asked astonished and this time it was Bebe and Stan's turn to stare, baffled at each other. "I mean we'd have to convince him first, but once we do, he'd be perfect."

"Well, I'm sure whoever he is, he's a lovely person. Someone anyone's grandmother would be delighted to invite to afternoon tea, but I can't really send him an invite without knowing his name," Stan quipped sarcastically.

"I'm talking about Damien," Kyle said earnestly.

"Kenny's boyfriend?" Stan said and Kyle nodded.

"It's perfect actually," Bebe acknowledged. "Who better than Satan's own son."

"Exactly," Kyle said.

Stan nodded slowly. Kyle had a point. Damien would be the perfect person, but he and the Anti-Christ were never on close terms. Plus, Stan was sure Damien held some animosity towards him when Satan choose him in the battle against the Canadian Devil. Stan inwardly scoffed.

"We'd have to find some way to convince him," he said. "I doubt he'd just agree to it."

Bebe shrugged. "We've got Kenny and that'll be enough."

Both Bebe and Kyle were smiling reassuringly back at him and he couldn't help but return it. His problem wasn't solved and for all he knew it may never be. However, he certainly was taking a step in the right direction towards an easier and more controlled life. He stood up from the chair and Bebe and Kyle got up from the bed as well.

"Out of curiosity, did the play change to Peter Pan?" Bebe said gesturing to the odd outfit Stan was wearing.

"What?" he said confused before chuckling softly. "Oh no, Craig and I were roleplaying. I was Peter Pan and he was Captain Hook. He's tied up back—"

Kyle held up his hand. "Please, as your best friend, I beg you never finish that sentence."

With a smirk and Kyle's plea falling on deaf ears, Stan lifted into the air and flew straight out of the window. The pair leaned out the frame, watching Stan soar across the pink and golden sky until disappeared past a grove of limber pine trees.

"Bubbeleh are you upstairs?!"

 _ **A/N: I can't explain why my friends and I find Stan flying so funny but we do. This story pretty much started as a result of us having some whiskey and joking about Stan flying.**_


	6. My Boyfriend's Dad is Day Drunk

Craig had to be grateful the radio still worked, but considering the lack of stations available in their small town, it wasn't much. He was on his way to Stan's, driving the car he had inherited from his dad. It wasn't meant to be a grand gesture but as a way for Craig to learn responsibility. His father had expected him to invest time and money into maintaining his car. Instead, Craig had learned two packs of PBR and a pack of Camels, and Kenny could keep his piece of shit car running.

He sighed when the car made its usual grinding noise as he tapped the brake. He turned down Stan's street and the textbooks resting on the passenger seat slid off, falling onto the floor of the car covered with weeks old fast food and empty beer cans. He was on his way to study AP Chemistry and discuss other things.

Last night, during an intense Destiny game with Token and Clyde, Stan showed up outside his window. He had lamented his predicament and told him about Kyle and Bebe's suggestion. He could see how hopeful Stan was but Craig had his concerns, mainly Damien. He barely knew the guy and there was also the small fact that he was the son of the devil. He kept his mouth shut though, and agreed to help.

He turned the engine off and gathered the books from the floor. He glanced down at his phone and saw a text from Stan.

 _Just come upstairs when ur here._

He opened the front door of the Marsh residence, poking himself halfway through as he looked around the empty living room.

"Hello?" he called.

"Up here," Stan yelled back from his room. He closed the door and made his way up the stairs. He was at the top step when another door flew open and Randy came stumbling out, grumbling to himself. Craig suppressed a groan. He hated having to deal with Stan's dad. If he wasn't drunk, he was berating others for some reason.

The older man's eyes widen like saucers, staring intently back at Craig. Craig frowned further, not understanding what was wrong but deciding he didn't care as he tried to side step the man. He froze though when Randy's lips trembled before he let out a petrified scream.

"SHARON!" he screamed, his eyes never leaving Craig. "OH MY GOD SHARON!"

There was a sound of another person downstairs.

"Randy, I'm busy," she snapped from below. "Whatever it is, deal with it."

Randy continued to stare at Craig in horror and Craig continued to be utterly baffled by his reaction.

"He's gotten so much freakier. Oh god Sharon, our son, our Staaaaaaan," he cried out.

Craig's eyes narrowed. Did this man seriously mistake him for Stan? They had met many times before. He opened his mouth to tell Randy off when a door nearby flew open.

"What the hell is going on?" Stan asked, looking at the two. Randy blinked, looking between Stan standing in his door frame to the other boy in front of him. His eyes squinted as if he was trying to see through one of their disguises.

Stan stalked over, standing a foot shorter next to Craig. He leaned forward, searching his father's face before tugging on Craig's sleeve. "Lets go," he said firmly, pulling Craig into his room.

"What's wrong with him?" Craig asked as Stan slammed the door shut.

"What's not wrong with him," Stan muttered bitterly, taking the books from Craig and setting them on his desk. "He went out with his PC buddies last night and he's still drunk. He woke me up at 3 am begging to see magic tricks."

"Let's study tomorrow," Craig stated.

"What?" Stan frowned.

"You're stressed. You can't study when you're stressed. Let's take today to have some fun and relax and we can worry about this tomorrow," he said tapping the textbook. Stan looked down at it, mulling Craig's words over in his head. His heavy eyelids and Craig's cucumber body wash made his answer clear.

"Sounds good," he smiled, sinking down onto his bed and Craig followed.

"Anything else bothering you?" he asked, running a hand up and down Stan's back. Being with Stan, he had learned it wasn't the accidental fires or ground splitting incidents that he had to take notice of. It was the ordinary signs of a frustrated and dejected man that were important. When it came to Stan, his everyday expressions were ignored by most, but Craig knew those were vital.

"Nothing more than usual," he answered with a sad smile.

"What do you want to do today?" he asked. "Play some video games? Go to Stark's Pond? Maybe see a movie?"

"Can we just stay here for a bit?" he sheepishly said.

He kissed Stan gently, intending for the gesture to be a simple way to answer his wish. Of course they could stay in and perhaps read some comics. Stan could practice guitar while he grimaced, or maybe there was a new show on Netflix they could binge. However, when fingers vice-gripped his hair and a tongue shoved it's way easily inside his mouth, Craig knew exactly what was in store for their day.

He leaned back onto the Broncos covers, taking Stan with him. They continued to kiss, hands sliding along and fingers twirling in locks of black. Stan's lips were chapped and his breath smelled stale, and the stubble on Craig's face would surely turn into a lecture from Stan afterwards. Now though, they ignored it all and let pleasure take over.

Craig loved the how Stan's body was like his own personal temperature control unit. Others complained about his unnatural ability to change the degrees drastically, but it never bothered Craig. When he was freezing, Stan warmed him up and when he was hot, Stan cooled him down. It was freak of nature situation designed perfectly for them.

The bed shook and Stan let out an annoyed groan as Craig latched onto his neck. The bed continued to vibrate and slowly lifted off the ground. They didn't pull away or take any notice to it. Craig remembered the first time this had happened. Stan had buried his face into the crock of Craig's neck, embarrassed. He explained how during certain moments alone were when these incident occurred. Craig just scowled because a bed floating while he felt up his boyfriend was something out of a cheesy chick-flick his sister would watch.

They didn't mind it anymore. It was easily ignored and didn't take away from their enjoyment. Only once did Craig accidently fall off the floating bed and smack his head hard on the nearby desk. The situation was salvaged by hours of Red Racer and some questionable homemade soup by Stan.

He slid a hand up Stan's shirt and pushing the fabric above his abdomen. He was about to move his hands somewhere south, when his ringtone caused him to halt.

 _I can be your hero baby. I can kiss away the pain._

Stan sighed, reaching over to his bedside table and grabbing his phone.

"Who is it?" Craig asked, wrinkling his nose as the song continued to play.

"What's up?" Stan answered his phone and ignored Craig. He huffed, rolling off his boyfriend and listening to the two chat. It didn't take long to figure out who was on the other line.

"Really? Shit Ken," Stan said, smiling happily. "This really means a lot. I hope it wasn't much trouble, man."

" _No sweat dude. Well placed threats always work. You should try it on Craig,"_ he teased.

"Tell McCormick to fuck off," Craig retorted, picking dirt beneath his fingernail. Stan rolled his eyes.

"What time should we meet you guys?" he asked.

" _He'll probably finishing up his duties now,"_ Kenny responded. _"Come by the junkyard near my house."_

"Sounds good. Thanks again."

Hanging up the phone and tossing it off to the side, he turned to Craig who was still distracting himself with the bit of dirt under his nails.

"Jesus Craig," Stan said with disgust. "I'm the demon here and I can keep my nails in check."

"Be careful what you say Marsh or I won't stick them in your butt, " Craig warned. "So what's the plan?"

"We gotta head over to Kenny's," he said getting up from the bag and grabbing a few items from his closet.

The two made their way downstairs, barely avoiding a startling by Randy, and got into Craig's car.

"Does it have to be McCormick's place?" Craig asked, as he started up the engine and left Stan's driveway. "Why not the school field? I bet there's more room for you to... you know." He waved his arms in the air like a bird.

"I don't know," Stan frowned at his boyfriend. "He probably has his reasons. Maybe he's not allowed there."

"The high school isn't a holy place," Craig pointed out.

"Tell that to Kyle," he mumbled back. "It's hot in here. Turn on the AC."

"Can't," he said, making a turn down Kenny's street. "It's broken. I'll see if McCormick can fix it while you and the creep are flying."

Stan threw him a look and reached down for the window crank. "You really need to update your car, Craigory!"

They came to stop right outside the dingy green home. The only light on was from Karen's bedroom window, but they could easily make out the angry voices of Carol and Stuart, as is tradition. Slamming the doors closed, they headed to the back area where Kenny normally bummed around.

"Hey," he greeted the pair, a cigarette dangling from the corner of his mouth. Without exchanging pleasantries, Craig walked over and Kenny handed him a smoke.

"Is dick cheese here?" Craig asked, lighting up the cigarette and inhaling it.

"Yeah, he's over there by the stray dogs," he said, jabbing his thumb over his shoulder. "He probably thinks one of them is his mom."

Stan looked over and effortlessly spotted the eerie and reddish silhouette of another man. He shivered, despite his own body temperature being at a warmer state. He hoped he never gave off the same unwelcoming and sinister vibe.

"Get him over here," Craig said.

Kenny tossed his cigarette to the ground, smashing the last bit left beneath the soles of shoes, and closed his eyes.

"Really, McCormick?" Craig said, annoyed.

" _E_ _xcite ille homo,_ _"_ Kenny began to chant and the ground started to shake violently. Stan grappled onto Craig to prevent from falling over. _"facit qui dura humidum_ _._ _"_ He finished with a shout and threw out some wicked jazz hands.

They had seen this before; the earth forming a large red abyss, as the face of an un-amused and annoyed man began to rise from below.

"You could have just called me asshole," Damien stated as the hole closed itself off. "You're causing a rift when you constantly summon me. Not that I care, but you'd think as someone who loves to dress in tights and _"save"_ people, you'd be more careful."

"Yeah yeah, you two can bitch later," Craig interrupted before Kenny had a chance to speak. "What's going on? Are you gonna help him or what?"

Damien glared at Craig and then looked over to Stan. He slowly tongued over his fangs, enjoying the discomfort and uncertainty he was setting.

"What exactly do you need?" he inquired, folding his arms against his chest.

Stan sighed. "I just want to control this better. No more random fires or causing other people pain."

"My father made a big mistake with you," Damien said lowly. " A demon who doesn't want to cause pain."

"I didn't ask for this!" he snarled back. "Are you just gonna stand there and say shit or will you help me?"

Damien's red eyes became slits as he considered turning Stan into a bug. "I really don't see what I'd be getting out of it," he drawled and smirked at the helpless look on the other's face.

"Damien, I swear by my holy PSP, if you don't help out Stan, no more apple pie turnover," Kenny threatened.

Damien frowned, unsure if the blonde was referring to one of the delicious pies Kenny once made him, or one of their many weird sex positions. Either way, he didn't want to find out.

"Fine," he conceded. "We start tomorrow."

 _ **A/N:**_

 _ **E**_ _ **xcite ille homo**_ _ **facit qui dura humidum. - call upon the man who makes me hard and moist. It's tough finding a direct translate. Latin isn't easy.**_

 ** _Randy mistaking Craig as Stan was just a small nod to the many times I've come across a posting or a story where they're described as looking very, very similar._**

 _ **No, Craig's real name isn't Craigory in this. Stan's just wishes his boyfriend had a longer first name that he yell when Craig is being frustrating. I've been there.**_

 _ **Little reference to The Omen for ya.**_


	7. My Boyfriend's First Lesson

They were back at the junkyard the very next morning. Stan had arrived first, shaking Kenny awake in his bed to get the day started. After a long stint in the shower, which included a much needed stress relief session, Kenny summoned the Anti-Christ. An hour later, Craig arrived, textbooks and coffee in hand.

"You could have brought some for all of us," Kenny commented with a grin, leaning against a broken off car door. He had a guitar slung over a shoulder. A gift from Karen she had earned through babysitting money.

Craig ignored him, instead taking a long sip of the coffee and grimacing at the bitter aftertaste it presented. He looked above where two were currently floating in midair. Damien and Stan had been afloat for awhile and Craig found the whole thing a waste of time. Stan didn't need to learn how to fly. He had mastered that. He had seen Stan soar through the skies plenty of times, especially after one of their fights.

"Hey! Tucker! You listening?" Kenny's voice shouted.

Craig glanced over and rolled his eyes at the blonde. "You don't even drink this shit," he replied, taking another sip and regretting it instantly.

It was Kenny's turn to roll his eyes. "I wasn't talking about that. I was asking if you heard back from that school."

Craig's shoulders slumped. He had sent in an application to Cal Arts for the filmmaking program. He knew his chances were slim when his current portfolio wasn't up to par. It still stung when the rejection letter had come in.

"Don't worry man," Kenny said. "Their loss. You'll get something better. Maybe somewhere around Denver."

Kenny reached behind and twisted his guitar in front of him. Reaching into his pocket, he retrieved a blue pick and began to strum.

"Are you gonna play that thing?" Craig asked, eyeing the guitar wearily. Kenny responded with a few notes and a playful smile. Craig groaned, opening one of the textbooks he had brought. He could try and drown out Kenny with some trigonometry problems.

" _Another turning point, a fork stuck in the road. Time grabs you by the wrist, directs you where to go. So make the best of this test, and don't ask why_ ," Kenny began to sing. Craig pinched the bridge of nose, a habit he picked up from Stan. _"It's not a question, but a lesson learned in time It's something unpredictable, but—"_

"NO!" a voice from above boomed and suddenly Kenny's guitar was ripped from his hands. "We are not playing that fucking song."

"God damn it, Damien," Kenny yelled, jumping up and down and shaking his fist at the Anti-Christ. "Give me back my guitar."

Damien turned to a perplexed Stan. "This is something you'll find useful."

"Telekinesis?" Stan asked, interested.

Damien nodded, moving his hand only a bit causing the guitar to spin in the air. Kenny continued to shout obscenities from below.

"People think it's just as simple as the ability to move something, but it's actually a lot more," he explained. "You'll be able to levitate, bind, maneuver, destroy, maybe even see where a bullet is heading before it even leaves the gun."

Stan's eyes widen. "I mean I've certainly caused stuff to levitate before but it was always an accident. Will you teach me how to control it better?"

"Yes," Damien said softy, barely audible over the shouts from Kenny. He traced a clawed finger across his lips as he observed the boy in front of him. "You'll have some limitations, considering you're an abomination, but the basic skill of intentionally controlling objects rather than the sporadic way you're use to, we'll focus on that."

Damien began to descend down and Stan followed, both landing softly back on the ground. For a moment, Damien stood there, motionless with only a devious grin playing on his pale face. Stan furrowed his brow confused as the Anti-Christ kept still.

"What—," Stan began but a sudden scream from Craig caused him to spin around in fright.

Craig was soaring through the air, textbook with him, and looking completely taken back. Damien's eyes never left Stan's face as Craig came to a halt a few inches above them.

"It's harder to control living beings," he said casually, ruby eyes snapping away to Stan and causing Craig to fall to the ground.

"Mother fucker!" Craig snarled, scrambling up and swearing some more. Damien rolled his eyes, snapping two clawed fingers together and the swears became muted.

"What did you do to him?" Stan asked worriedly as Craig started to tug on his throat as if his vocal cords had caught a snag and could be unhinged.

"We are going to start with something slightly bigger for a beginner," he said and then unexpectedly grabbed Craig by the face, pulling him closer. Stan gasped in horror, moving swiftly towards the other demon, but an invisible force blocked his path.

"Tell McCormick he'll be getting his guitar back so he can quit the fit he's having, and tell him if he plays another song from that mix CD he made me, I'll have Stan here blast his guitar to dust," he whispered menacingly before snapping his fingers once more.

Without saying anything, Craig snatched his textbook from off the ground, and stormed back over to Kenny.

"Now," Damien announced turning back to Stan who looked visibly shaken. "What normally happens before you've caused something to move?"

"I'm usually angry or um," he scratched the back of his neck awkwardly. Damien rolled his eyes and scoffed.

"The most important thing you need to learn now is to master your emotions," he said.

"But how can I when everyti—"

"You don't need to prevent them, Allow your anger, your rage, your," he smirked. "but learn to use them to your advantage."

Stan frowned still not understanding entirely what Damien needed him to do.

"We'll start with something simple," he said. "Focus on a time when you were angry,"

Stan nodded. Closing his eyes the first thing that came to mind was when Craig had taken Tweek to see the new Star Wars movie instead of him. That had resulted in one of their biggest fights to date.

"Feel it, accept it, and embrace it. Don't let your emotions master you. Master them," Stan could hear Damien whispering. A part of him really wanted to open his eyes, as the idea of leaving himself vulnerable in front of the Anti-Christ was unsettling, but he didn't want to break whatever connection might be forming. "Your emotions are like a corridor with many doors ready to have you lose control. You need to get to the end."

Stan sighed, still not getting what the hell was going on.

"Now," Damien spoke. "Focus on Kenny's guitar."

Stan's brow furrowed heavily as he wordlessly moved his lips. "I still see the junkyard and you and Kenny and Craig," he said defeatedly.

"Focus on the guitar," he repeated. "The more accurate, the better. What color is it?"

"Um, yellow?" he guessed.

"You need to be sure," Damien snapped.

"Yeah, it's yellow," he grumbled but sounding more confident. "It also has a NASCAR sticker on it."

"Now, holding onto the image of the guitar in your mind, open your eyes and create a path in your head from the guitar to you," Damien explained.

"Okay," Stan said slowly as he carefully opened his eyes. Without needing anymore instructions, he held out his hand, arm extended and for a moment nothing happened.

"Fuck," he seethed, frustrated at his inability to master what was probably the easiest skill for a demon. But remembering Damien's words, he held onto that frustration.

The guitar still spinning at its fixed location gave a feeble twitch towards their direction.

"Did you see that?" he asked the demon excitedly.

"That's nothing," Damien responded condescendingly. "Keep trying."

Stan bit his lip, enough for the bitter taste of blood to form. The cold air now biting into as his whole body shook but he directed all energy, emotions, and strength towards the god forsaken guitar.

"Why does Stanny boy look like he's gonna shit himself?" Kenny wondered out loud from below. Craig turned from his homework to Stan. Kenny was right. Stan's face was red, shaking yet rigid like a horrible bout of constipation had hit him.

"Do you have any beer?" Kenny asked, sounding bored.

"It's noon. No, I didn't bring any booze for you," he snapped back, still watching his boyfriend.

Kenny scoffed, jumping up from the seated position he was in, and reached into the locker of his oversized sweater. "Fine. I'll just call Kyle. He always gets the good shit."

"Yeah and he always expects all of us to chip in," Craig mumbled turning to the blonde. "Tell him to bring whatever is cheapest. You don't know the difference anyways. Why do you need to drink? We've got a test tomorrow." Maybe McCormick had plans to remain a South Park resident but he didn't.

Kenny pointed above with a smile. "You think this is gonna be a short thing? Nah man, we're gonna be for a long time. Might as well enjoy it."

Craig mumbled something incoherent under his breath. He hated to admit but Kenny had a point. He was almost finished with next week's assignments and it looked like the two above were nowhere near done.

"Tell Kyle to bring some whiskey," he added, snapping the book shut.

"'Atta boy," Kenny said cheerfully. "Woah, look at that!"

Craig whipped his head around and up to see Kenny's guitar slowly making its way towards Stan.

"Fuck yeah Stanny!" Kenny cheered and Craig couldn't help himself from smiling. "Now use it to shove it up Damien's ass!"

Above the two, Stan let out a long and heavy breath. He was sweating, out of breath and still shaking but a smile was creeping on his face. "Is—is—is that good enough?" he panted.

Damien shrugged and Stan had the urge to kick the demon. "It's a good start, but there's room for improvement"

Stan groaned but nodded. He knew the importance of this skill. Not because he could bring things to himself but if he could master this, it would stop the random instances were he accidentally sent things flying around. Even once accidentally knocking out Tweek.

"Fine," Stan agreed. "Lets keep going."

Hours passed, when Kyle arrived with Bebe and most importantly, the booze.

"How long have you guys been here?" he asked, handing the case off to Kenny and taking a seat.

"Stan woke my ass up at 6 am," Kenny said. "Craig got here around 9."

"Shit," Bebe said, laughing a bit. "Long day I take it?"

"Nah."

"Yes."

"How's he doing?" Kyle asked concerned.

"Damien's been pretty good at managing his desire to turn Stan into some animal. I mean it took a lot of convincing from me last night," he winked and Bebe gave him a playful punch.

"He was asking about Stan," she said.

Craig shrugged. "I think he's doing well. He managed to get Kenny's guitar to come to him."

"No shit," Bebe said impressed.

Kyle yelped as the guitar suddenly appeared in front of their group. They turned to see Stan looking thrilled and Damien a look of dread as Kenny snatched the guitar back.

"He always gives in," Kenny said smugly, once more strumming the instrument. "What song do you guys want to hear?"

"You know you're the town's douchebag, right?" Craig informed the blonde.

Night had arrived and the group was relaxing on the dirty ground, enjoying the new spectacle above. Stan was getting the hang of bringing objects to him, and was now locked in a junkyard furniture battle with the antichrist. Each had summoned large furniture, Damien a table and Stan a sitting chair, and were smashing the others while the observers below cheered.

With the taste of cheep beer, Stan's chair now dismantled and Damien's table still in tact, and Kenny's third song playing, Craig couldn't help but smile. Perhaps this little mountain town wasn't so bad.


	8. My Boyfriend's Best Friend

The colorful lights flashed violently in front of them. Their fingers smashing various buttons and teeth grinding as they leaned forward until the sound of victory and defeat caused one to cheer and the other to curse.

"Good game," Stan announced, smiling as his avatar did a victory dance. Kyle tossed the controller to the side with a huff.

"I'm gonna order a pizza," Kyle said getting up from the couch. "You want a veggie?"

Stan nodded and started up another round. "Should we play at an easier level?" he teased. Kyle flipped him off and headed into the kitchen.

Laughing, Stan reached for his soda, taking the last sip of it. "Tell them to bring some more pop," he called from the couch. Kyle returned, grabbing his remote and they immersed themselves once more in their game.

Stan was close to another win when Kyle unexpectedly paused the game.

"Dude!" Stan whined. He was about to tell his best friend off until he saw the lost look on Kyle's face. "Dude?"

Kyle took a deep breath. He was still staring ahead at the pause menu, but then slowly turned to Stan. "Can I talk to you about something?" he asked with uncertainty.

"Of course," Stan said. Kyle looked away for a moment, biting his lip.

Stan's heart dropped a little. Kyle never sounded or looked this nervous to talk to him about anything. He was always the confident and assured one, holding to his morals but easily playing mental gymnastics if he went against them. Stan could still recall the crack baby fiasco. Kyle had been his go-to during the hardest parts of his life and he realized now the favor was never fully returned.

"Kyle, what's up?" he questioned seriously.

"I waanazkbabatomurryme," he hurriedly mumbled.

"Sorry?" Stan asked, worried Damien possessed his super best friend.

"I want to ask Bebe to marry me," he forced out, looking embarrassed.

Stan's eyes widened and his heart lifted. He laughed causing Kyle to look at him, horrified. "I'm just relieved it's not something horrible like you were dying or some shit," he assured.

"You don't think it's a bad idea?" Kyle carefully asked.

Stan shook his head and smiled happily at the redhead. "You guys been together forever. You're both going to California for school, so it won't become a long distance thing. As long as you're absolutely sure you want this, I'm all for it," he said truthfully.

"Thanks Stan," Kyle beamed. "I just wanted to hear it from you that it wasn't a bad idea."

Stan shrugged. "You sure you want _my_ advice?" he joked. "Look at who I'm dating."

Kyle snorted.

"How are you going to ask her?" Stan wondered.

"Well I'm going to ask her dad first. He likes me so I think I'll be good, unless he plays the "you're too young" card," Kyle said. "I've been thinking about it for a while. You know what would be a perfect way to ask. I thought about I'm taking her to the woods—"

"This sounds like a plot to murder her," Stan interjected.

"It's where we go every year for our picnic date and to watch the stars," he added matter of factly. "but then I decided I'm going to do it when the moment feels perfect. None of that "trying to make the moment" shit. I'll know when it's right. Does that make sense?"

"In a weird way, yes. She's going to say yes," Stan assured him. "Do you have a ring yet?"

Kyle shook his head. "I still have a bit more to save up but if I keep up my budget, I'll have it in no time. I hope. I'm not even sure what kind to get her," he admitted.

"Maybe I can help you there," Stan muttered thoughtfully. Kyle raised a brow at this. "I have no idea what's going to happen to me and Craig once school is over," Stan added with a sigh.

"Have you talked about it?" Kyle asked.

"Somewhat…a little…no, not really," Stan concluded. "I've told him I'm applying to a few colleges in Denver but he's so gung-ho on getting into a film program out in California or New York. I'm not sure I could live in those states."

"Well, if you moved to California, we'd be able to hang out more," Kyle reminded him.

Stan chuckled. "Yeah, I just think I've got a good shot with the Colorado Buffaloes in Boulder. You know I talked to one of their recruits a few games back?"

"But what about your academics?" Kyle asked. "I believe you'll get the scholarship, but you should think of a major in case football doesn't work out."

"You sound like Craig," Stan mumbled dejectedly. "They've got good programs. I was looking at Computer Science or maybe Environmental Engineering."

"You've got to apply to where you want to go and let him do the same. If it's in a different state, maybe you try long distance. But I'd say decide now if it's something you're willing to put up with," Kyle solemnly advised.

Stan began to contemplate this when the doorbell rang. "I got it," he announced, jumping up from his seat.

For awhile, the two became lost in their routine of video games, jokes, and odd tasting pizza.

Stern reached over gripping Kyle's shoulder. "I'm really happy for you," he said honestly.

* * *

Stan was bent over, a long groan slipping from his parted lips followed by heavy pants, as he wrapped an arm around his body, clutching the fabric of his shirt. They had been at it for hours. Damien towered over him, his red eyes gleaming in the night. Compared to Stan, the Anti-Christ looked merely bored.

"You done?" Damien asked scoldingly.

Stan's eyes snapped up, glaring back. For a moment his blue eyes were taken over by a sea of red and Damien grinned. "Can't we take a break?" he nearly begged. There had to be some law against this.

Damien scoffed. He wanted to tell Stan off. Tell him he was wasting his time. Tell him how weak he was. Truthfully though, these little lessons got him out of the tedious jobs his father would assign him in Hell, so he endured.

He turned from Stan, making his way over to the case of beer Kenny had left behind before leaving for work. Unscrewing the cap, he took a swig of the lukewarm brew. He made a face of disgust and spat the beer out.

Stan took a sip of beer, showing no signs of displeasure.

"I need to ask for a favor," he said and Damien slowly cocked a brow. Was he serious?

"My best friend, Kyle-"

"The redhead?" Damien asked with note of delight.

Stan frowned but nodded. "Yeah, he's going to ask his girlfriend to marry him," Stan said.

"Pity," he breathed. Stan winced but continued.

"I want to get him the perfect ring," Stan informed him and Damien now looked thoroughly confused. "Can you find something in Jewish Hell for him?"

Trying to shake the look of bewilderment off his face, Damien's eyes narrowed at the man in front of him, as he observed the eagerness present on his flushed face. Realizing he was serious, Damien slowly nodded.

"Yes, Jewish Hell. It's right next to cat heaven," he mused mockingly but Stan smiled gratefully.

"Thanks. I really appreciate it," Stan said gratefully. "Hey look, Kenny's home."

He was heading in their direction. His navy blue work jumpsuit riddled with new grease stains and smudges of dirt on his face. His blonde hair was disheveled more than usual, but he still maintained the air of a man happy with life.

"Hey guys," he happily greeted and not so discreetly gave Damien's ass a squeeze. Red eyes flashed dangerously at the blonde.

"I'm glad you're here," Damien proclaimed, taking a step away.

"Oh really?" Kenny said in sultry voice, wiggling his brows at the Anti-Christ. Stan shifted uncomfortably.

"Yes, I want to practice _seductio mentis et corporis_ ," Damien said, glancing over at Stan.

"Don't call me names," Stan snapped aggressively. "I'm trying my best here."

Damien clicked his tongue. "It's the art of seduction," he enlightened them. "Having complete control over someone's lust and desire."

"I already have a boyfriend," Stan carefully reminded, but the other demon ignored him. Gesturing for Kenny to come over, the blonde happily bounced to Damien's side.

"Since Greg couldn't make it tonight, Kenny will be standing in. You'll be practicing with him," Damien clarified and Kenny dramatically winked. "Let's begin."

It didn't take long for the junkyard to echo with sounds of giggling, wanton moans, and enthusiastic declarations without a single touch. Despite the discomfort it gave him, Stan was looking forward to seeing Greg. Craig.

 _ **A/N: Dude! Dude?**_

 _ **Even with a Kenny/Damien pairing, I can't help but give a nod to Dyle.**_

 _ **Sorry for the delay. I've just started a new job and I am being transferred out of state for it. Busy. Busy.**_


	9. My Boyfriend Can Shimmy

_Tap. Tap. Click. Click. Click. Tap. Tap. Click. Tap._

Stan huffed for the fifth time in the past twenty minutes. He grumbled beneath his breath as he cast the other boy a glare. Craig, leaning up against his headboard, forced himself to keep staring at the words on the page. He was certain he read the same passage but he really didn't feel like engaging Stan.

 _Click. Click. Click. Tap. Tap. Tap. Click. Tap. Clic-_

Craig's grey eyes slowly moved from the page to his boyfriend. "Is something wrong?" he asked tensely.

Stan's eyes snapped over. A glint of red glossed over the blues briefly. Craig inwardly recoiled, worried for impending disaster. He still recalled the day when Stan blasted his Playstation because he thought Craig was more in love with the console than him. Instead, Stan continued to glare, leaving Craig to become increasingly more annoyed.

"Enough of this," Craig said seriously. He took a deep breath to calm himself. He recently bought a new tv and would like to keep it. "I'm sorry I said I thought Denver was a hellhole. I just don't like winter."

"That's not the point," Stan finally spoke.

"Then can you please talk to me?" Craig said, forcing a gentle tone. He was never the best at handling situations like this. It was one of the reasons him and Tweek broke up. His constant emotional breakdowns were too much for him.

"It's like you don't even care," he said.

"About what?" Craig asked.

"Everything!" Stan shouted, jumping off the bed to tower over Craig. "Us!"

"I think me putting up with shit like this shows I care," Craig answered, voice dropping dangerously low.

"Fuck you Tucker," he countered. "I'm the only one trying to see this relationship past a high school thing but if that's all you want... If all I was was just some freak to have fun with, let me know now."

"What are you talking about?" Craig asked harshly, getting up from the bed himself. "Of course you're not just some freak to me. I don't get why you are so mad."

"We have only a few months left here and we haven't even discussed where you are applying. Anytime I try and bring it up, you brush it off," he retorted.

Craig tensed up for a moment. Only an hour ago, Stan arrived in his bedroom, ecstatic and overjoyed with news. He proudly announced he would be receiving a football scholarship to the University of Colorado and according to Mackey, his grades and extra school activities were good enough for approval, even without the promise of a scholarship. For a moment, Craig was happy for him. Stan had persisted and endured and it paid off. However, those feelings were swiftly replaced when he realized he had two choices. He could either accept he was going to be stuck in Colorado or break it off to pursue his filmmaking dreams out of state. The realization pained him and all he could say when Stan stood there rambling on about the university was: "Denver is a hellhole. I would hate to waste my life here."

"Do you want me to be honest or do you want me to lie?" Craig sighed. "You've had everything figured out. Your school, your future career, even us. But did _you_ ever stop and ask or even think about what _I_ want?"

Stan blinked, taken back slightly.

"I've been busy with these lessons. My mind has been all over the place," Stan confessed, but Craig rolled his eyes.

"No, Stan. It's always been about you. Your needs. Your problems. I feel like you never care about anyone but yourself," he seethed. "I've given up a lot for this relationship."

"Like what?" he snarled. Any sympathy he had for the other man was tossed out the window.

"Did you ever notice how I don't hang with Clyde and Token anymore? How I'm always bumming around with Broflovski, Stevens, and THE McCormick," he said scathingly.

"You hang with that Tweek," Stan inputted darkly.

"It's not because I like your friends over mine. In fact, they suck," Craig said, ignoring Stan. "It's because of you. You were constantly causing problems. Setting fires, breaking shit. People might like you on the football field, but off, they're terrified."

"You think I don't know that," Stan cried angrily. Did Craig think the lessons with Damien were for fun?

"And despite that, I chose you. I _chose_ to lose my friends and I _chose_ to deal with all those fires because I wanted to be with _you_ ," he said, reaching out and grabbing Stan's hands. For a moment, they stood there, eyes locked and Craig believed the fight had died until Stan ripped his hands away.

"I never wanted to be a burden to anyone. I've had people shout things at me, call me names, demand I get locked up, but I've never felt like I ruined anyone's life until now," he said dejectedly.

"Stan," Craig said, he didn't know what to follow up with. Instead, he watched as Stan gave him one last look before turning to the window. Awkwardly, he climbed out of it, pushing off the ledge as he took flight.

Craig leaned out of the window, seeing Stan breast-stroking through the cloudy sky. He was making his way in the direction of Kyle's house.

"Fuuuuuuucccckkkk yooooooouuuuu Tuuuuuucccckkkeeerrr," Stan yelled.

Craig looked over at Stripe #7, playing in his wheel, and sighed.

* * *

The following day, Stan was still upset, but he focused on Damien's lessons throughout his classes. It was a struggle, resulting in a migraine, but he managed to not cause any disturbances. He had also successfully dodged all of Craig's attempts to talk. He was afraid his efforts to control himself would vanish at the sight of him. It helped that Kyle and Bebe were there to tell Craig to piss off.

Now, he was back on the stage for the fifth rehearsal. The balcony set had been rebuilt and the cast had positioned themselves for the infamous scene once more. Stan looked up, seeing a few scorch marks along the wall and parts of the red curtains blackened. He flinched but turned his attention to Annie, who had taken over the role of Juliet, giving her a reassuring smile. She didn't return it.

"You two ready?" Mackey called from his seat.

"Yes, sir," they answered, both with slight uncertainty.

"Stan, you got your shit together?" Mackey asked.

"Yes, sir," he grumbled.

"Alright then," he said, giving Stan a calculating look. "Lights—"

Stan tensed, looking past the rows of seats to the glass lighting booth above to see Craig standing there. He had completely forgotten he would be here. Craig gave him a small wave, but swearing under his breath, Stan turned away.

"Action, m'kay!"

The scene went without a hitch. Every emotion he had been feeling that day, he conformed and adjusted into a false feeling of passion. Each time he wanted to scream at Craig in the hallways, he transformed it into desire for Annie. All the fires the demon inside him wanted to set were being freed through Shakespeare's words. It was fire and love. The perfect recipe for the scene.

"Bravo!" Mackey applauded. Stan blushed. This was the first time he had not been met with scathing remarks. Even Annie seemed more relaxed high above him. It was hard not to look past Mackey and gauge Craig's reaction but he forced himself to keep his attention on the counselor.

"That was really well done, Stan. Annie,, if you want to come down, let's just go through your lines once more. Then we'll proceed to Kenny's death scene, m'kay" Mackey informed the group.

The rehearsal continued for another hour. It finally ended as it always did; Mackey screaming and swearing. This time, however, it wasn't directed at Stan, as it always was. Kenny's over the top acting and inability to just die grated the man's nerves enough for him to jump from his seat and scream "why can't you stay fucking dead, m'kay?!"

They filed out of the auditorium, chatting and laughing. It was rare for Stan to leave with his spirits feeling lifted. He was in the middle of listening to Kenny tell another outrageous story from one of his visits to Damien's home, when a hand grabbed his wrist.

Stan spun around, coming face to face with Craig. He instantly narrowed his eyes at the taller boy. If there was any time to let go and forgo Damien's lessons, it was now.

"Stan, please listen to me," Craig urgently said.

Stan said nothing. Kyle and Bebe weren't here to save him. Craig took Stan's silence as a go ahead. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. Stan watched, confusedly as Craig began to scroll through his iTunes.

"I'm not very good at expressing myself," Craig explained, still scrolling. "I laid in bed all night listening to songs but nothing quite felt right. My sister suggested Cher but I knew you'd blast my ass across this school if I played that shit."

"Craig what—" Stan fumbled.

"Here!" Craig declared, hitting his phone's screen. He let go of Stan and took a few steps back. The hallway suddenly became filled with the sound of E major 80s beat.

 _Ooh, baby, do you know what that's worth?_

 _Ooh, heaven is a place on earth_

 _They say in heaven, love comes first_

 _We'll make heaven a place on earth_

 _Ooh, heaven is a place on earth_

Taking a long inhale, Craig rocks back and forth, moving his arms stiffly in an awkward dance.

 _When the night falls down_

 _I wait for you and you come around_

 _And the world's alive with the sound_

 _Of kids on the street outside_

Stan watched completely horrified and memorized as the song played and Craig continued his stiff dance moments. A crowd of onlookers was now slowly forming around them. Most had the same look as Stan.

 _When you walk into the room_

 _You pull me close and we start to move_

 _And we're spinning with the stars above_

 _And you lift me up in a wave of love_

He was about to say something, but Craig went into a full-on shimmy.

 _Ooh, baby, do you know what that's worth?_

 _Ooh, heaven is a place on earth_

 _They say in heaven, love comes first_

 _We'll make heaven a place on earth_

 _Ooh, heaven is a place on earth_

Craig was now standing right in front of him still shimmying, his stale pizza breath hitting Stan in the face while the crowd broke into a cheer.

"Stan, I fucked up," Craig claimed over the song and onlookers.

Stan raised his brow, the corner of his mouth twitching as he fought the urge to laugh at the ridiculousness of all of this.

 _Baby, I was afraid before_

 _But I'm not afraid anymore_

Stopping his shimmying, Craig reached over and grabbed Stan's hands. Intertwining his fingers with Stan's, he leaned into his ear.

 _They say in heaven love comes first_

 _We'll make heaven a place on earth_

 _Ooh, heaven is a place on earth_

"Stan, wherever you are is where I want to be. You're my heaven on earth," Craig whispered lovingly. "If you're here, then Colorado is Heaven. If you want to be in a swamp, then it's Heaven. To me, you're not some freak or some demon, you're Stan. The guy I love and the guy I want to spend hours with studying for stupid college exams, going to lame college parties, carrying home because you can't handle your fucking booze."

Blushing, he pulled away to observe his boyfriend's face. Past him, he could see the crowd giggling and pointing. "You couldn't have just said this?" he asked quietly, laughing. "You didn't have to embarrass yourself."

Craig shrugged. "It was the only way to get your attention."

"I hate you," he sighed, reaching up and kissing Craig.

"How about we go make the bed levitate?" Craig growled suggestively, beaming down with a lopsided grin.

Without wasting another second, he pulled Craig alongside him, pushing past the cheering crowd to the outdoors and they took flight into the heavens above.

 _Ooh, heaven is a place on earth_


	10. My Boyfriend Has Mind Control

"I wish I could have seen it," Bebe pouted.

The weekend had arrived and brought with it warmer weather. The end of high school was slowly coming upon the small group, now back at the junkyard. It had become their hangout after school and days off. Craig with his school books and pamphlets of various colleges in Colorado, Kenny smoking and playing his guitar, Kyle and Bebe cuddling on top a questionable blanket provided by Kenny, and Stan and Damien high above the three.

"I'm glad you weren't there," Craig said pointedly, thumbing through a University of Northern Colorado pamphlet.

"Someone had to have recorded," Kyle laughed. "The entire school will have seen it by Monday."

Craig rolled his eyes. He knew his little stunt would get around and as much as he dreaded becoming a walking meme, it had been worth it. There were still scrape marks from the bedpost on Stan's bedroom ceiling.

"Hey whadda you guys think of this one?" he asked, trying to change the subject. He waved a Colorado State University booklet in front of himself. "They've got a journalism and media communications media."

"I thought you wanted to do filmmaking?" Kyle asked. "That sounds more like news reporting, less creative."

"It could be a stepping stone," Craig grumbled, tossing the pamphlet down and looking through the stack of others.

"Do you want my advice?" Kyle asked.

"No."

"Don't major in filmmaking," Kyle said and Craig's slowly raised a brow, nonverbally daring the redhead to continue. "I know it's been your dream since we had that stupid AV club in elementary school."

"I've also made two short films and wrote a lot of screenplays," he scowled. "It's not just some elementary fucking dream, Broflovski."

Kyle took a deep breath. "I know," he insisted. "I just think spending all that money on something you can learn on websites might be a waste. You already have a great eye for composition and storytelling. You don't need someone who hasn't worked in the field telling you what makes a good movie."

His glare didn't falter but Kyle's words were sinking in. He had attended filmmaking courses at the community college and found he knew more than the stuffy, fart sniffing professor.

"So what are you suggesting?" Craig said evenly. "I shouldn't go to college?'

Kyle scoffed. "Yeah, like I'd be the one to tell you to ditch college," he joked. "No, pick a different major. Something to fall back in just in case. Filmmaking business isn't easy. Sometimes the best guys get left out and the worst get in. So choose something else you enjoy to major in, but take filmmaking electives, join clubs and never stop making movies."

Craig tongued over his bottom lip, soaking in the advise. It was hard not to argue he had a good point. He wasn't an idiot. He knew he'd someday face a difficult battle getting into the field and the fear of failure often had him envisioning him stuck back in South Park. However, if it didn't work out, if he truly wasn't meant to show his vision, could he simply enter another field anywhere?

"I don't even know what I'd major in," he admitted with a sigh.

"You're really good with space stuff," Bebe commented. "Maybe something science related?"

Craig leaned back, watching the two demons in the bright blue sky for a moment as he let his mind wander. He had a lot to think of but most importantly he knew he had to discuss it with Stan.

"Now that we're done with that, I got some news" Kenny announced, taking one more huff before tossing his bud to the ground. "I got a gig at Skeeters Pub to sing some covers."

"You going to perform any of your stuff?" Bebe asked. "My favorite was Sleaze Febreeze."

Kenny laughed. "Nah, not yet. I gotta get a good crowd in then maybe he'll let me."

"You want to practice while we wait for them to finish up?" Kyle suggested and Craig threw him a look. It was a peaceful day that didn't need to be interrupted with Kenny's guitar or voice.

"Sure," Kenny beamed, taking a seat on the ground in front of the three and placing his guitar on his knee. "This little song goes out to Craig and Damien."

"Excuse me?" Craig asked with a look of dread.

"I don't know if Damien is listening. Don't want to make a demon jealous," he reminded the dark haired boy.

Craig sighed in agreement but still a feeling of trepidation was set.

Giving Craig a wink that made him recoil, he began to sing.

 _High dive into frozen waves where the past comes back to life_

 _Fight fear for the selfish pain, it was worth it every time_

 _Hold still right before we crash 'cause we both know how this ends_

"Oh, I love this song," Bebe gushed.

 _If our love is tragedy, why are you my remedy?_

 _If our love's insanity, why are you my clarity?_

"I should kill him," Damien said pensively, looking down at the singing blonde. He was high above where only Stan could hear him. "But he'd just bother me at home."

Stan also peered down at the three. Kyle and Bebe snuggling up as Bebe sang along with Kenny. Craig had the look of a man who was witnessing some horrific act.

"Let's get back to it," Damien announced getting Stan's attention back. "You've been doing well with moving objects and using your emotion to your advantage."

Stan smiled. It was true, especially with last weeks rehearsal. He had redirected his anger at Craig into giving his best performance.

"We are going to switch focus to mental telepathy and manipulation," Damien said. "Every mind has the ability to communicate with other species. Trees can communicate with bushes, and bushes with squirrels, and squirrels with firemen."

Stan blinked.

"What, like read minds?" he eventually spoke.

"It can be that, yes. But just reading minds is boring. I've been doing it for years and not one single mortal's has ever entertained me," he drawled. "No, this is more about mind control. Getting people to do something for you. Command them."

"Um," Stan shifted uncomfortably. He'd rather see his friend's weird sex fantasies.

With a smirk and glint behind red, he turned his attention down to the three. Stan followed his gaze about to ask, when Craig leapt from his spot and started barking.

"That is but a small demonstration," he said nonchalantly as Craig continued to yap away.

"Damien make it stop," Kyle yelled from below.

"Anything for you," Damien called back, laughing. He snapped his clawed fingers and Craig ceased his barking, spinning around confused as to why he was suddenly standing.

He turned back to Stan who looked mildly miffed.

"Because you're a mistake, you won't have the same amount of control as I do," Damien informed him.

"What do you mean?" he pressed. He didn't see how making someone bark like a dog was some big feat.

"I can fully posses a mortal. I go inside their mind, body, and soul and completely take over. They'll try to fight me out but I'm a disease that will spread eventually taking whatever humanity they have left," he relied earnestly, his tone dripping in pleasure.

"Like your dad did to me?" Stan mumbled.

"Yes," Damien confirmed. He had the sudden urge to smack Stan across the face. The self pity he was giving wasn't warranted. Stan got the honor of fighting in a battle. His father chose this stupid mortal over him. It grated his nerve and boiled his black blood.

"So what will I be able to do?" Stan asked.

"Control their minds to do things for you," Damien explained. "Greg could still be barking but also still function as himself. It's easier to control smaller things like animals and kids."

"But what's the point?" Stan wondered. "I mean, I don't need an army of toddlers or chipmunks."

Damien rolled his eyes. "I don't know what you'd use it for," he snapped. "Now, pick something small nearby that you can mind control. There's a few stray dogs that hang around here."

Stan bit his lip, scanning the junkyard. He was about to call off the lesson. This was the type of power only demons crafted in their desire to inflict pain and suffering would enjoy. Everyone should be allowed free will. Who was he to take it away, even if it was only for a moment?

Something silver and glinting beneath a few piles of waste caught his eye. Damien resumed speaking as he walked Stan through the steps. It was the same as always: focus, focus, focus. He kept his attention on the item, face straining and body shaking. Beads of sweat descended down his face as short, quick breaths were let out. Damien's voice playing in the back like white noise.

Slowly, the item began to quiver until it finally burst through the trash, but it wasn't the only thing to. All around the junkyard objects similar to it rose and surrounded the two demons. A whirring sound began to play.

"Holy shit!" Kenny exclaimed.

"…..Good?" Damien said perplexed.

The whirring sound cut short as the items crashed to the ground and Stan gulped in a large breath of air. He fell to the ground, happy and ready to go home.

Randy pulled into his driveway, mumbling bitterly under his breath. The smell of beer and wine was all over him. The latest reports at work had kept him at the office much later than normal. On his drive home, he'd often find himself making a stop at the nearby brewery.

He'd barely seen Sharon for the past week. All he got from her was a short snap to fix some shit around the house. His swaying stance told him it was probably in his best interest to go to bed, but his mind could only hear Sharon's disappointed and nagging voice.

Grumbling at how unappreciated he was, he pulled the latch to the garage open.

"Son of bitch," he growled when he realized his toolkit was empty. He probably attempted to fix something last night and had forgotten. Slamming the garage door shut, he stumbled his way to the front door.

Opening the door to his home, he was met with a startling sight.

"Hey dad," Stan greeted from the center of the living room.

Randy blinked, jaw agape. All around, his power tools were floating in midair, working and fixing. He ducked as a hammer came sweeping over his head towards the TV stand behind him.

"I thought you could use some help," Stan announced.

Torn between wanting to ask what the hell was happening and just thanking his son for his help, Randy crashed onto the couch, the sound of his drills playing him to sleep.

A/N: In which the author gives her advice on film school.


	11. My Boyfriend Has a Gift

**Warning: sexual situation**

The day had finally come. It had arrived on a Thursday night. The whole reason he had begun his sessions had arrived and Stan couldn't be more nervous.

"Stan, you need to calm your tits," Cartman advised nastily. He was leaning back in a fold up chair, snacking away on a bag of Cheesy Poofs. The orange dust was leaving a trail on his costume, but he paid it no attention.

"Shut up," Stan growled. He was pacing back and forth the small dressing room. His hands tugged at his disheveled black hair. How could he be so stupid? Who was he fooling? He couldn't control his powers. It was inevitable he'd do something to ruin everything. "What if I cause the set to collapse again or set someone on fire or what if I hurt the audience?"

"Jesus Christ," Cartman whined, hopping up. "I'm going."

He left the room, slamming the door behind him.

Stan continued to pace muttering frantically to himself. "Focus, control emotions, what if I forget my lines, _pacis det mihi_ , what if I make someone levitate, _parere,_ focus focus, oh god!"

"Stan?" Stan spun around to see Kyle, Bebe, Kenny and Craig all entering the small room. They were smiling happily until they saw his distraught face.

"What's up?" Kyle asked.

"I can't do this," he cried. "I can't."

"Stan, everyone's nervous before going on stage in front of people," Kyle said calmly, clapping his hand on his friend's back. "But you've been doing so well at rehearsals, just pretend it's another one."

"Besides, I doubt your transcript will be based on acting skills. Isn't the whole reason for this," Craig said gesturing to Stan's awfully frilly costume. "to make it look like you did more than just football?"

"Yeah, and you've already gotten accepted so you could go out there and just fart the whole time," Kenny joked.

"I'm not afraid of acting in front of people," Stan said as he gritted his teeth. "I—I-"

"What is it dude?" Kyle pressed gently.

"What if I hurt someone? I'm having trouble remembering Damien's lessons. It's like they just got erased and all I can see is fire and people screaming and I just can't," Stan faltered helplessly.

"Oh Stan," Bebe cried and threw herself over him, hugging him tight.

The group stood there for a moment in reflection. No one sure what advice they could offer Stan. They couldn't assure him nothing would happen.

"Think of it like a test," Kyle suggested after awhile and the group raised their brows at him. "You've been training for months now, but have you really ever had to use it without Damien there to walk you through?"

Stan shook his head. "But that's still not going to help! People still fail tests, Kyle. It's not just about getting through this without causing problems. I need to control this disease and perform my best. I don't know if I can do both! Some of the people in this play actually care about how they perform. Did you know Annie actually wants to be an actress?"

"And she won't be cast in some big movie because of a high school play in South Park," Craig retorted lowly. "Come on, Stan. No one cares about this play as much as you do."

"Yeah, it's fucking Romeo + Juliet, people are bored of that story," Bebe added cheerfully.

Stan sighed, slumping down in a nearby chair. He pressed his face into the palm of his hands, the worries still flooding his mind. It was like every reassurance and advice his friends were giving him was being tossed away and only the anxiety was allowed a place .

Suddenly, one of his hands was ripped from him and he was pulled up. "Come on," Craig urged.

"What?" he asked.

"Just follow me," Craig said. "You three stay here."

He followed Craig through the backstage, past the other actors reciting their lines, past the crew setting up last minute details, and past Mackey cursing and yelling. They reached the large exit door.

"Craig... what?"

Ignoring him, Craig pushed the large door open and pulled Stan outside. Just as the door was about to close, they could hear someone call 30 minutes to show.

"Whatever you're doing, I don't have time for," Stan snapped, but continued to let Craig drag him along the school ground.

They came to a small grove outside school boundaries. Stan looked around at the trees surrounding them, leafless and swaying in the gentle wind, and frowned. Was this Craig's way of trying to get him some inner peace or some shit?

"Okay, we're shouldn't get in trouble if we get caught here," Craig finally spoke and turned to face Stan who looked a mixture of confused and annoyed. Grabbing Stan by the shoulder, he spun him around and slammed him against a tree.

"Hey fuck you!" Stan yelled but anymore cursing was ceased with lips and tongue finding their way past his own. Taken aback briefly, he let himself relax in Craig's hold. He was getting in the sync of his movements, kissing him back when the taller man pulled back. Craig gave him a sultry smile, a rare look for him, and unexpectedly dropped to his knees.

Stan's eyes widened, Craig's intentions becoming clear. "Cr-Craig?" he spluttered as fingers gripped around the elastic band of his costume and pulled down.

He wrapped his hand around Stan's dick and began to pump firmly. His wrist twisting near the head, thumb swirling at the tip. It didn't take long for his cock to become semi-hard. Looking up and locking eyes with him, Craig engulfed Stan's cock.

He bobbed his head, his tongue dragging along the underside of the shaft. He kept his eyes on Stan's face, who was watching him with a mix of love and greed. It was rare Craig did this for him. Normally bitching about how it made his jaw hurt and when he did, it was with minimal effort, but this was something different. It was magnificent.

The wet muscle circled around the top of his dick and Stan found himself involuntarily jerking his hips into Craig's mouth. Craig smiled with the cock in his mouth. His jaw ached and his knees were in a uncomfortable position but seeing Stan lose himself above him through his own work was a thrill.

He popped off briefly, spitting into his palm and pumping Stan a few more strokes. "How does it feel?" he purred nasally.

"G-g-good," Stan whined and Craig chuckled taking Stan back into his mouth. He continued to lick, suck, and stroke. He was enjoying this moment as much as Stan and briefly wondered if he could forgo birthday presents in replacement of blowjobs.

Taking his free hand, he cupped Stan's balls and rolled them. Stan gasped in surprise and before Craig had a chance to look up to see his face, a warm, slightly unpleasant liquid hit the back of his throat. He fell back and Stan's release landed on his face.

Panting heavily, Stan laughed seeing Craig's eyes and mouth blocked by a trail of semen. "Shit," he smiled, looking around the surrounding area for something to help Craig wipe the mess off.

Trying his best not to say something and allow the warm liquid to seep into his mouth, he stood up and pulled off his favorite blue chula hat, using it to wipe the mess off his face.

"You owe me a new one," he stated and threw it at Stan who dropped it, disgusted but laughed. "So how do you feel?"

Smiling like he hadn't in months, his body slumped against Craig. He pressed his face into his raggedy old Red Racer shirt and sighed happily. The worries were finally muted. His mind felt blank, at ease and at peace, his body relaxed. All he cared about was the arms around him and the smell of greasy fast food mingled with cucumber body wash.

"Ready to go back?" Craig asked. Stan nodded and together they made their way back to the school.

Stan beamed under the bright stage lights as he took another bow. He glanced over at his fellow cast members all smiling back at him and the crowd. He had done it. The play had been a success. Even Mr. Mackey could be seen wiping a proud tear from the corner of his eye.

He couldn't remember Damien's lessons. All he could think of was Craig and that incredible blowjob he had given him only hours prior to taking the stage. It had been exactly what he needed to keep his powers at bay and to bring his absolute best performance. All his inhibitions put on pause through pleasure. How could anyone worry when the world was such a wonderful place?

He took one more final bow and was led away by Annie. They got backstage and she gave him a hug and quick congratulations before running off to find Clyde.

"You were wonderful!" Bebe exclaimed running over to hug him as well. Kyle and Craig following close behind.

"Whatever Craig said to you alone must've worked," Kyle said. "Congrats dude."

Bebe gave Stan a knowing smile but said nothing.

"We're all going to Shakey's to celebrate. Damien will be there," Kenny announced from across the backstage. "You three coming?"

Taking Craig's hand, and slinging his arm around Kyle's shoulder who's hand was locked with Bebe's, the four left the school, animatedly chatting about their upcoming adventures and what life had in store.

It was a different tone that what he was used to. Normally Shakey's was filled with obnoxious boasting and people thumping him on the back to congratulate on a pass, a touchdown, or catch. This time, he wasn't the center of attention. He could sit there, relaxed against Craig and laugh along to Kenny's crude jokes, discuss random topics with Clyde and Annie, and listen to Kyle ramble on about college.

"Thanks," Stan said to the Anti-Christ seated across from him.

The demon slowly tongued over his fangs watching Stan with great interest before finally conceding to a short and sharp "you're welcome."

"Here, my treat," Kenny said, arriving at the front of the table and passing the group fries, drinks, and pizza.

"Kenny," Kyle began frowning

"While I'd like to congratulate the cast for their amazing performance," Kenny spoke and there was a small applause "and Stan for not blowing up anyone—"

"Thanks Ken," Stan grumbled before chuckling along with the rest.

"And Kyle and Bebe who about to start their lives together in California," he winked at the redhead who blushed. The ring Damien had brought him now seemed to burn in his pocket. "I have my own announcement to make. I've officially been made shop owner once I graduate high school. I'll now have plenty of money to visit all of you fucking assholes and very soon enough to pay for Karen's entire college."

He made a grand bow and fell into the seat next to Damien, a round of congratulations flooding him.

"That's amazing, dude," Stan said. "You've earned it with all those hours spent there."

"Good job, man," Craig added.

"Thanks," Kenny said happily and turned to Damien. "Isn't it wonderful, Damien?"

"Yes, good for you," he drawled.

"Aren't you so happy for me, Damien?" he teased, stealing a sip from the demon's drink. "I was thinking about getting a place closer to work. Whadda you say Damien, wanna live with me? Huh Damien?" he taunted and Damien stared at him in horror.

"Tim Curry," Kenny purred.

Stan and Craig looked at the blonde confused, but Damien leapt to his feet. "We have to go," he declared.

Laughing and giving the pair across from him a wink, Kenny followed Damien out of the restaurant. Craig made a noise of disgust as Stan just laughed.

It was déjà vu but once again he was happy with the world. The chatter and laughter around him played like a favorite song on constant loop. He rested his head back on Craig's shoulders, watching Kyle and Bebe excitedly discuss their plans for California. Kyle caught his eye and Stan gave his friend a reassuring smile.

As Kyle moved away from Bebe to get down on one knee and the crowd gasped in surprise, he decided there was no place he'd rather be.

 _ **A/N: All Stan needed was a blowjob from Craig because remember a blowjob isn't with your mouth, it's with your heart.**_


	12. My Boyfriend's Playlist

_**A/N: Sorry for the delay. My laptop decided to crap out and I had to wait a bit before I could get it fixed. Plus, I was dealing with a new job and moving out of state.**_

 _ **5 years later**_

"Introducing for the very first time, Mr. and Mrs. Broflovksi."

Kyle and Bebe stepped out onto the large dance floor and the crowd seated at their respective tables cheered. The newlyweds were overcome with joy, eyes only for each other. Pulling his new wife close, Kyle whispered into her ear.

"How much do you think my mom's gonna freak?"

Laughing at her husband's concerns, the room became filled with the opening tune of At Last by Etta James.

At the head table, Craig leaned into Stan. "You ready?" he asked. Stan said nothing, taking a deep inhale to calm his nerves. His attention set on the dancing couple.

 _At last my love has come along_

Bebe gripped Kyle's shoulders as ever so slowly they lifted off the ground. They continued to dance, their feet no longer touching the floor but moving in mid-air. Kyle could hear his mother shriek _what what what_ but he could only grin as he spun Bebe away and back.

 _I found a dream that I could speak to_

 _A dream that I can call my own_

 _I found a thrill to press my cheek to_

Craig took Stan's hand and gripped it. Giving him a small squeeze, he could see Stan's eyes, a mist of red over blue, following the airborne couple.

"I told you this would be fun," Bebe said to Kyle.

"You were right as usual," Kyle responded, dipping his bride.

"Get used to it," she teased and again all he could do was smile. "Check out Stan."

Finally taking his eyes off the girl in front of him, he glanced at his best man. Stan was unblinking and focused on them, his mouth moving slightly to keep them high above the ground. Instantly, Kyle found himself looking over at Craig. The taller dark haired man was watching Stan with the same look Kyle had only for Bebe. Turning back to her, he kissed her passionately.

Suddenly the song changed, a more somber tone playing.

 _All around me are familiar faces_

 _Worn out places, worn out faces_

The two didn't care. Whether it was Stan causing the song change or the cheap DJ Kyle's mom insisted on, it didn't matter.

Lips still sealed to each other, the crowd gasped in awe and shock as a large fiery circle surrounded the flying couple from below.

 _And I find it kinda funny, I find it kinda sad_

 _The dreams in which I'm dying are the best I've ever had_

Their foreheads pressed to each other, green and brown locked, they slowly began to descend down. The flames around them burned bright before vanishing into a wisp of smoke, leaving behind white rose petals.

 _When people run in circles it's a very very_

 _Mad world, mad world_

The crowd cheered, clapping at the sight, and Kyle turned back to Stan. He was slumped in his chair, panting heavily but smiling wide back.

* * *

Stan's body swayed out of synch and uncoordinated to the loud beat surrounding him and friends. He twisted his body to the floor before popping back up in front of Craig who was stiffly rocking and back forth. Craig's feet remained planted, watching Stan dance with amusement and fear for his own safety.

The song changed and Stan grabbed him, pulling him closer. Their bodies pressed against each other, moving together to their own made up were still out of tune to the music, but it didn't bother them. The booze was flowing and this was a day of celebration.

"I hate these lights," Craig complained, looking around the large room. "This place is tacky. Of course Broflovski and Stevens would pick it."

Stan rolled his eyes. "Don't force me to blow your ass away," he warned. "Besides, Kyle's mom chose this place. They got a discount."

Craig could almost hear Cartman making some Jewish joke in his head.

"Everyone was impressed with you today," Craig complimented.

Stan blushed. "It's nothing," he retorted, waving his hand.

Craig smiled before giving Stan a quick kiss. He wished Stan could see the small accomplishments like he did. Stan had been continuing his lessons, even flying to South Park once a month to meet with Damien and visit Kenny.

"Everyone here was used to you accidentally using your powers, but they haven't seen you control them. Use them when you want. It was fun to watch," Craig pointed out. "Plus seeing Kyle's mom yell at you afterward was priceless."

"Yeah, I wish Kyle told her we'd planned this," he said lowly but laughed.

The song ended and Stan tugged at Craig's suit cuff towards the open bar where Annie and Clyde were cheerfully chatting.

"Hey," Stan greeted the pair.

"Two whiskeys please," Craig ordered before turning to the pair and giving Clyde a quick hug. "What's up dude? I haven't seen you in ages."

"I know," Clyde laughed. "Me and Annie were just talking about that. It's great to see everyone again. Can you believe how much weight Cartman lost?"

Stan and Craig could see their former classmate chatting with Token and Red at one of the tables. It was true he had lost a considerate amount of weight and turned it into muscle. Moving away from his mother and her enabling and his taking residence in California had suited him well.

"He's still an asshole," Craig replied. "Why did Broflovski invite him?"

Annie shrugged. "Habit maybe."

Clyde shook his head. "Naw, according to Bebe he drove four hours from his place and showed up at the their door. Threw a hissy fit at like one in the morning until Kyle gave up and told him he could come."

"What have you been up to?" Stan asked Annie.

"About to start my masters. I've been spending a lot of time in New York," she said.

"Annie here is seeing some New York feller," Clyde drawled and Annie blushed.

"I met him at my internship," she said. "He works on Wall Street."

"Hey, Mrs. Broflovski!" Clyde called across the room at Bebe but Kyle's mom spun around instead. "Bebe!"

Gesturing for her to come over, Bebe approached the group. She looked happy and exhausted, her curls already becoming frizzy once more.

"Christ, Kyle's family is something else," she joked, wiping her brow. "On one hand they keep handing me checks but on the other—"

"They're annoying as fuck," Craig offered. "How many times have you been asked if you're going to convert?"

"Pretty much by everyone on his side," she laughed. "We'd think us doing a Jewish ceremony would have been enough."

They chatted for a while reminiscing about old times and telling each other stories from their life outside of South Park. Eventually, Kyle made his way over looking equally exhausted as Bebe, but just as happy.

"You sure went full tack with the decorations," Craig greeted the redhead.

"Can you get me a drink?" he asked Bebe, not bothering to respond to Craig.

"One coke and one diet please," she said to the bartender.

"Drunk already Kyle?" Clyde teased.

"Yeah, shouldn't you be putting something in those drinks," Stan added frowning at his friend. "Like vodka or whiskey?"

"Bartender," Clyde called over Bebe. "Add some booze in there, will ya?"

"No," Bebe and Kyle both shouted.

Annie gasped, slapping her hand over her mouth. "Oh my god," she squealed.

"Yes oh my god," Craig groaned, catching on.

"Yes, yes," Kyle said lowering his voice. "We found out two weeks ago, but we can't let anyone know."

"Our families both think we're virgins," Bebe added.

Craig snorted.

"Wait, what's going on?" Stan asked, lost to the look of delight on their faces.

"Bebe's pregnant," Annie whispered happily, bouncing happily up and down and grabbing Bebe's hands.

"Dude," was all Stan could say as he threw his arms around his super best friend.

"You should name it Eric," Craig mused.

"Why the hell would we do that?" Kyle asked indigenously.

"Didn't he dare you to ask out Bebe to prove you weren't secretly dating Stan?" Craig reminded him. "If it wasn't for fat ass you two might not have gotten together."

Kyle glared at Craig, wondering for a fleeting moment if he should take back a certain blessing he gave to Craig earlier that day.

"Oh, let's dance to this," Bebe gushed, taking Kyle back on the dance floor.

* * *

Stan and Craig woke up early the next morning hungover but happy. They enjoyed a brunch with their friends, packed up the pick up truck, and made their way back to Denver.

"I made a playlist for us," Craig said pressing play on his Android plugged into the car.

There were three songs that stood out for Craig. He had his playlists, songs he became obsessed with and played on repeat. Some songs he'd secretly practice on the piano making Stan swear he wouldn't tell anyone. He couldn't stand the thought of the McCormick wanting to start some band.

But these three songs transported him completely, bringing him back to the first time he heard the tunes. The memory of sights and smells instantly taking over his senses when the melody began.

The first was _Candy Shop_ by 50 cent. He had been pressured by his friends to attend the South Park spring dance. He spent all of his time against the wall watching Tweek with sad eyes. They had only broken up a month ago. Eventually, he left heading to the parking lot when he ran right into Stan Marsh. Even looking back he couldn't explain his reasonings, but he invited him back into his car. All night they chatted, topics changing and flowing with ease. At some point Stan accidentally setting a bag of fast food on the floor on fire and Craig pouring some old coffee to put it out. It became their tradition. The two hanging in Craig's car until one day he realized he wanted something more. But it was always the first night, their cheap cologne, the smell of leftover fries, and Candy Shop playing on the radio that he'd always remember.

 _I'll take you to the candy shop_

 _I'll let you lick the lollipop_

Stan looked over at Craig, observing his boyfriend with interest.

"If this is your way of getting me to give you road head," Stan began and Craig rolled his eyes.

"No, it's just this was the song we listened to at that dance," he muttered, slightly abashed. "The first time we hung out."

Stan smiled, looking at the window at the passing scenery and cars while the song went on.

The second was _La vie en rose_ by Edith Piaf. It had been a late Wednesday afternoon. The air smelled of body odor and apple air freshener. They had been locked up in Craig's room for hours studying for an upcoming French test. The foreign language came natural to Stan, syllables rolling off his tongue with ease. Watching Stan recite lines in their textbook without any hesitation made him wonder if one of his demon powers was picking up new languages. After another hour of studying, Craig finally caved, closing the book with a huff. Stan smiled at him, crawling across the bed to snatch his iPod from the bedside.

"My mom showed me this song the other day," he had said, handing Craig one of his earbuds and he placed the other in his ear. Craig raised his brow as an old tune played.

 _Des yeux qui font baisser les miens_

 _Un rire qui se perd sur sa bouche_

 _Voilà le portrait sans retouche_

 _De l'homme auquel j'appartiens_

Craig suppressed the urge to laugh as Stan started to sing along. He was completely out of tune but he sang along with so much love for the song, Craig was mesmerized.

 _Quand il me prend dans ses bras_

 _Il me parle tout bas_

 _Je vois la vie en rose_

They had been dating happily for four months. They had spent many exciting and fun times together, creating memories as a new couple. Many times the three words creeped into his mind but they couldn't be said.

 _C'est lui pour moi, moi pour lui dans la vie_

 _Il me l'a dit, l'a juré pour la vie_

It wasn't a midnight stroll they sometimes took or the expensive fancy Italian restaurant or any particular grand moment when the words finally came. It was sitting on Stan's bed listening to the song play between them and Stan's voice cracking briefly when he finally said them.

"I love you."

 _Il me dit des mots d'amour_

 _Des mots de tous les jours_

 _Et_ _ç_ _a me fait quelque chose_

The song never stopped but Stan did. His mouth open slightly and eyes wide with surprise until he leaned forward, kissing Craig hard and fast. "I love you too."

Nearby, Craig's bookshelf caught fire but he was too busy kissing Stan to care.

"I remember this song," Stan said, smiling happily at Craig in the car. "It was the first time you said I love you."

"And surprisingly, I still do," he commented back.

"Fuck you," Stan joked.

"Fuck you more," Craig responded.

 _Et dès que je t'aper_ _ç_ _ois_

 _Alors je sens dans moi_

 _Mon cœur qui bat_

The third song came on, Everyday by Buddy Holly, and Craig was transported once more, only a year back. Stan and him had driven from their apartment in Denver to South Park. The summer time had brought old friends back for a visit. They had arrived at the bar where Kyle, Bebe, Kenny, Cartman, Clyde and Token were waiting with drinks already waiting for them. To Craig's displeasure, they had chosen to visit the bar on karaoke night. No amount of beer or pleas from Stan and Clyde were going to get up on that stage.

Bebe had been the first to sing, slurring her way through _Firework_ by Katy Perry. The second was some old guy grunting _Sweet Caroline_ and the third Clyde and Kenny performing _Afternoon Delight._

He was on his third beer when Cartman took the stage. Stumbling up and snatching the microphone from a middle aged woman, he swiftly flipped off Kyle then started to sing.

 _Everyday, it's a-gettin' closer_

 _Goin' faster than a roller coaster_

 _Love like yours will surely come my way_

 _A-hey, a-hey hey_

His voice was just as Craig remembered, grating and whiney. Stan, who was seated in front of him, turned from watching Cartman to grimace at Craig. He didn't know if it was the look Stan gave as if they could share a single thought with just a look or the words Cartman sang next.

 _Everyday seems a little longer_

 _Every way, love's a little stronger_

 _Come what may, do you ever long for_

 _True love from me?_

But, it was the first time he made the decision he wanted to spend his life putting out fires, chasing after Stan flying away because he fucked up, or dealing with anything else his demon boyfriend brought to their home.

The realization jolted Craig and he sprung from his chair, grabbing Kyle and taking the redhead outside for a talk.

 _Everyday, it's a-gettin' closer_

 _Goin' faster than a roller coaster_

 _Love like yours will surely come my way_

 _A-hey, a-hey hey_

"Isn't this the song Cartman sang last year?" Stan asked, making the same face he did a year back. "I like this one much better."

Craig smiled, making a turn down a long winding road. "Good. I'm glad," he said simply and then took a deep breath. He had no idea how to start so he said the first thing that came to mind "God, that wedding was cheesy."

Stan raised his brow. "Excuse me?"

"I mean it's perfect for them but all that fancy and overpriced frilly stuff for a day, just to watch two people make goggly eyes at each other, no thanks."

"Jesus Craig, we had fun tonight why are you being an ass?" Stan asked.

"I'm not. I'm just stating facts. They wasted money on cheesy stupid stuff. I think it's stupid," he responded with a shrug. "Did they really need a large chocolate fountain?"

"Did it hurt you?" Stan snapped back.

"No, but—"

"No," Stan cut him off. "I had a great time and I actually used my powers for good. You're not going to ruin this with your bitching."

He reached over and grabbed the window crank, furiously twisting and turning with no luck.

"Stan, please don't. I didn't mean it," Craig said sadly. God, how he fucked up things so easily. Stan just glared at him, still moving the crank. Craig sighed. "It goes the other way."

Finally getting the window down, Stan pushed his upper body out and glanced around the area they were passing by.

"Stan," Craig tried once more but got nothing but a small kick from Stan as he took off. Craig could see Stan breast stroking high above him. He flew into the woods and out of sight.

"Eat shit Tucker," Stan's voice echoed.

He pulled over and grabbed his phone. It took sometime to find the number he was looking for until at last.

"Hey," he greeted the other in a flat tone. "Is it ready?"

"Yeah," came Kenny's voice on the other end. "Better hurry, Damien is getting agitated."

"Whatever," he said shortly. "I'm on my way." He grabbed the wheel, making a U-turn and _Burning Down The House_ by Talking Heads played as he sped off.

 _Watch out you might get what you're after_

That would become the fourth song.

* * *

In retrospect, he probably shouldn't have flown away. He had forgotten to grab his jacket and despite trying to use his powers to warm himself he couldn't stop from shivering. The wind slapped against his face along with branches and limbs. Stan made a mental note to never fly through the woods again.

It hadn't been Craig complaining about Kyle and Bebe's wedding that set him off. He knew Craig hated over the top romantic stuff. Hell, Kyle did too, but went along to keep Bebe happy. It was the underlying meaning in Craig's words that bothered him. Everyone around them was settling down and now Kyle and Bebe were going to have a kid together. Everyone's life was down a path he wanted to go too. Was ten years together not enough for Craig? They had been together only a year less than Bebe and Kyle. Did Craig ever see him the way Kyle would describe how he saw Bebe?

He was mulling over his worries when something small but slightly hard hit him the face.

"What the fuck," he said, scrambling to catch the mystery item. He caught it, opening his hand to find a black ring resting there.

"First of all, fuck you for flying this far," a voice yelled closely. Stan spun around and almost fell from the sky at the sight of a large hot air balloon and Craig inside the basket. "It took me forever to find you."

"How are you doing that?" Stan asked in wonder, looking up and down at the large colorful balloon.

"Damien's down blowing it," Craig explained hastily. Stan looked down to see the AntiChrist huffing and blowing. "But that's not the point. Stan, I'm sorry."

"You didn't have to rent a hot air balloon to tell me that," Stan drawled.

Craig shook his head. "No, I meant for this night to go a lot different but I messed it up like usual. I'm not good at stuff like this. I may not like all that girly and cheesy stuff, but I like you."

"Thanks," he retorted.

"No, what I'm trying to say is, will you come with me to the courthouse next Friday?" he shouted.

"What did you do?" Stan groaned. "I told you if you kept missing the trash basket they'd eventually come for you. Denver is serious about littering."

"It's nothing bad, Stan," he assured him. Stan stopped his breast strokes to wade in the air as he waited for Craig to continue. " I want us to get married."

If there was ever a time for Stan to fall from the sky, it was now.

"It'll be great for tax deductions. I invited our friends to witness. Clyde, Token, Kenny, Kyle," Craig added. His heart was pounding furiously against his chest.

"Wait, Kyle knows about this?" Stan spoke at last.

"Of course he knows. I had to ask for his permission to marry you. You think I wouldn't have had an earful from him if I didn't? Christ, you two are so gay for each other," he said. "Come on, Stan what do you say?"

Landing next to Craig in the basket, the sun finally bathing them in a warm orange glow, Stan nodded. Suddenly, a little rainbow appeared above them. He captured Stan's chapped lips with his own. Together their breath wreaked of sausages and syrup with a hint of citrus. Pressing his hand against Stan's back to bring him closer, he couldn't help but look forward to their future.

Fire and all.

 **A/N: The author decided to go full cheese.**

 **I'm still working hard on my Stick of Truth series, but I'll also be starting a K2 series. I've also got a bunch of one-shots that I'm just waiting for my editor to check on.**


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